I stared at him.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m serious. I swear.”
“You’re saying Mom told you something… after she died?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Before.”
We stood near a row of coat racks, half concealed by tall plants. Guests passed by, smiling, unaware that my legs felt ready to give out beneath me.
“A lawyer called me this morning. I almost ignored it—I thought it was spam.”
“And?”
“He knew Mom’s name. Her illness. The exact day she died.”
My mouth went dry.
“He said Mom asked him to contact me when Dad remarried,” Robert went on. “Specifically, when Dad married Laura.”
A chill traced its way down my spine.
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she—”
“She found out,” Robert cut in.
“Found out what?”
Read more on the next page >>
For more detailed instructions, please click the button below (>) and follow us on Facebook.
