At first glance, it seemed untouched. Then I noticed faint stitching near the middle — seams that didn’t match the factory pattern. The thread was darker, as if it had been resewn by hand.
A chill ran through me.
“Caleb, did you cut this?”
His eyes widened. “No! I promise!”
I believed him.
The stitching had been deliberate.
“Go watch TV,” I told him.
“Why?”
“Just go. Please.”
He hadn’t walked out on us.
But he had lived with a lie every single day.
Beneath the letters were printed bank statements — steady, monthly transfers stretching back for years.
My breath caught.
Then I picked up one of the envelopes. It looked identical to the one I had found hidden inside Caleb’s mattress.
“Claire,
I told myself it was temporary. That I could fix it before you ever had to know.
I was wrong.
Ava didn’t ask to be born into my failure. I cannot leave her with nothing.
The bigger key is for a safety deposit box at our bank. There are family heirlooms you can keep or sell.
I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for your mercy. Please meet her. Please help her if you can. It is the last thing I cannot fix myself.”
I lowered myself onto a box of Christmas ornaments and stared up at the wooden rafters above.
Daniel hadn’t revealed the truth out of courage. He did it because he was dying. Because he knew he wouldn’t be around to send the next payment — and once the money stopped, his secret would unravel on its own.
Grief twisted into something sharper.
“You don’t get to hand this to me!” I shouted into the dusty air. “You don’t get to die and leave me puzzles to solve!”
The floorboards creaked below.
“Mom?” Caleb called.
“I’m okay, sweetheart!” I answered — another lie.
I gathered the papers in my arms and climbed down from the attic. Back in our bedroom, I spread everything across the bed. One of Caroline’s letters had a return address printed neatly in the corner.
Birch Lane.
No city was necessary. It was ours — just twenty minutes away.
I collected the documents and tucked them into my nightstand drawer.
If I waited, I’d lose my nerve.
So I walked next door and asked Kelly if she could keep an eye on the kids for a bit. She was a stay-at-home mom with an eleven-year-old son and adored having extra children around. She happily ushered mine inside.
Caleb hesitated at the doorway, studying my face, but he went in.
I returned home, grabbed my keys, and got into the car.
The drive to Birch Lane felt surreal.
What if she refused to answer?
What if she didn’t know he was gone?
What if she despised me?
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