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“And he knew Mom’s name. Knew her illness. Knew the exact date she died.”
My mouth went dry.
“Specifically, when Dad married Laura.”
I felt a cold line crawl down my spine.
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she—”
“She found out,” Robert cut in.
He didn’t answer immediately. He pulled an envelope from inside his jacket.
Thick. Cream-colored. Sealed.
“She wrote this when she already knew she was dying.
She asked him to keep it until the right moment.”
“What’s in it?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Dad stayed. He took care of her.
He was there every day.”
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