For Mom.
My knees nearly gave out.
She led me to a quiet room. A table. Two chairs. A window overlooking the field where Owen used to cut across the grass when he thought I wasn’t watching.
I opened the envelope slowly. Inside was a folded sheet of notebook paper.
The moment I saw his handwriting, the pain hit so sharply I had to press a hand to my chest.
“Mom, I knew this letter would reach you if something happened to me. You need to know the truth… about Dad…”
The room felt like it was closing in.
Owen told me not to confront Charlie. He told me to follow him. To see something with my own eyes. Then to check beneath a loose tile under the small table in his room.
No explanation.
Just instructions.
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