The letter was dated long after her supposed death.

“Walter, lying to Tessa doesn’t protect her.

I want to see her.

You can’t keep deciding for both of us.”

I sat down on the floor, my legs ice-cold.

My father had hidden two different truths in the same piece of furniture.

I wanted to call Vincent and demand explanations, but I remembered the warning.

First I photographed the documents, saved copies in a brand-new email account, and wrote to Joan.