sending money to Rebecca for years. I know what that looks like, but please talk to her before you decide what kind of man he was.’
I dropped the letter.
“No, no, no.”
I thought Ethan had handed me the truth.
Instead, he’d only given me its first piece—and one thing he believed was completely wrong.
Behind his pages were copies of bank transfers.
Daniel had sent Rebecca money for years.
Hundreds at first.
Eventually thousands.
Money we’d argued over.
‘We can’t afford the specialist camp Ethan wants.’
‘We need to be careful this month.’
‘The roof can wait.’
Apparently, Rebecca couldn’t.
“While I was counting grocery coupons, you had another daughter?”
I said it to Daniel’s photograph.
Then threw the picture across the room.
It changed nothing.
The next morning, I verified the transfers.
Every one was real.
I began with the oldest.
Three hundred.
Then five hundred.
Then
