The first line of Clara’s note made my hands go numb.
« Andrew, if you’re reading this, something has happened to me. Read everything carefully. Don’t trust Gwen. »
For 40 years, I’d believed my family had died in a river.
Now I knew someone had buried the truth inside my own house.
« Don’t trust Gwen. »
That morning, my nephew, Jackson, arrived with 12 empty boxes and no patience left for my excuses.
« You were on the kitchen floor for three hours, Uncle Andrew, » he said.
« Two and a half. »
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