For several seconds, Mark didn’t speak.
Neither did I.
The voice on the phone waited.
Then Mark whispered, “Where are you?”
A pause.
“Twenty minutes from Savannah.”
Mark’s face had gone completely white.
I pushed myself higher against the hospital pillows.
“Put him on speaker.”
Mark looked at me.
Then he did.
George Kessler spoke again.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I stared at the phone.
Nobody had called me sweetheart in that voice before.
But somehow, I knew it.
Not because I’d met him.
Because I’d heard that voice in old home videos.
My husband had one recording from when he was six.
His father laughing behind the camera.
Come on, Mark. Again.
I had heard it once.
Eleven years ago.
Before George supposedly died.
Mark’s hand began shaking.
“My father died.”
“No.”
“You were on that boat.”
“No.”
“The police identified you.”
“They identified a body.”
Mark stopped breathing.
I looked at him.
George continued.
“Your mother knew it wasn’t me.”
Silence.
Then Mark whispered,
“Why?”
“Because I told her I was leaving.”
“Leaving where?”
“Her.”
The word landed heavily.
I watched my husband’s face change.
George said,
“Your mother and I had been married for twenty-two years. I wanted a divorce. She refused.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No. What’s impossible is what she told you afterward.”
Mark looked at me.
“What did she tell you?”
George’s voice softened.
“That I was drunk. That I took the boat out alone. That there was an accident. That they couldn’t recover my body.”
Mark whispered,
“You were dead.”
“No.”
“Then whose body was it?”
George didn’t answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was almost a whisper.
“That’s what Paige needs to tell you.”
Mark closed his eyes.
His sister.
The text.
Not about the wedding. About Mom.
I looked at Mark.
“Call Paige.”
He did.
She answered on the first ring.
“Is he there?”
Mark stared at the phone.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
His voice cracked.
“Paige.”
“I know.”
“Mom knows Dad is alive?”
“I found out six months ago.”
“Six months?”
“I was scared.”
“Of Mom?”
A long silence.
“Yes.”
Mark stood.
His hospital chair scraped against the floor.
“What happened six months ago?”
Paige began crying.
“I found Dad’s letters.”
My heart tightened.
“What letters?” I asked.
Paige said,
“Letters he sent us after he disappeared.”
Mark looked at me.
“How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
“And Mom hid them?”
“Yes.”
George spoke from the phone.
“She didn’t just hide them.”
Paige went quiet.
“What do you mean?”
George said,
“She forged my death certificate.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Mark sat back down.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
George sighed.
“Because she knew I’d discovered something.”
“What?”
Another pause.
Then George said,
“That she had been stealing from my company for years.”
Mark stared at the phone.
“How much?”
“Enough to destroy us.”
Paige spoke softly.
“Almost four million dollars.”
My stomach dropped.
Mark looked toward the door.
“And the wedding?”
Nobody answered.
“The wedding was paid for by Dad’s company?”
George said,
“Partly.”
Mark’s expression hardened.
“Why would Mom spend that kind of money?”
Paige whispered,
“Because she was trying to move the money.”
I felt a chill.
“Move it where?”
Paige said,
“Overseas.”
Mark stood again.
“Why?”
“Because she’s been planning to disappear.”
I looked at the clock.
2:17 a.m.
Then the door opened.
A police officer stepped inside.
Behind him was another man.
Older.
Grey hair.
A scar along his left cheek.
He stopped when he saw Mark.
Neither of them moved.
Mark stared at him.
George stared back.
Then the older man said,
“My boy.”
Mark’s knees nearly gave out.
I had never seen my husband look eight years old before.
But he did then.
Completely.
He crossed the room.
George opened his arms.
And Mark broke.
He buried his face against his father’s shoulder and sobbed.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
“My mother said you never tried.”
George closed his eyes.
“She lied.”
Mark pulled away.
His face was wet.
“Why did you stay gone?”
George looked at me.
Then at Mark.
“Because the day after my disappearance, Diane came to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said if I contacted either of my children, she’d make sure neither of you ever saw the other again.”
Mark’s jaw tightened.
“What did she have on you?”
George looked toward the floor.
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you believe her?”
“Because she had already done something.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
George looked at me.
“She had been poisoning Paige’s mind for years.”
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She told Paige that I blamed her for the marriage failing.”
Paige’s voice came through the phone.
“I believed her.”
George looked devastated.
“She told Mark I abandoned him.”
Mark whispered,
“I believed her.”
George nodded.
“That’s why she was so good at it.”
He looked at me.
“She didn’t just lie to you.”
He paused.
“She built your entire family around the lie.”
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
“What does this have to do with me?”
George’s expression changed.
“Everything.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out a small envelope.
And handed it to me.
My name was written across the front.
My handwriting.
Except I had never written it.
I looked at Mark.
“What is this?”
George said,
“Your mother-in-law wrote that letter nine years ago.”
I stared at him.
“Why would she write to me?”
“Because she knew something was going to happen.”
“What?”
George looked at Mark.
Then back at me.
“Your appendix didn’t rupture because of stress.”
I froze.
“What?”
George’s voice became very quiet.
“Someone put something in your food.”
The room went silent.
Mark’s face changed instantly.
“What are you saying?”
George looked directly at him.
“I’m saying your mother didn’t storm into that hospital because she thought your wife was pretending.”
He looked at me.
“She came because she needed to know whether you were going to survive.”
My blood ran cold.
Mark whispered,
“Why?”
George pointed at the envelope.
“Because if you survived, the truth could come out.”
I stared at the envelope.
Then at the man who was supposed to have been dead for eleven years.
And suddenly the wedding didn’t matter anymore.
Neither did the four million dollars.
Neither did the lies.
Because there was one question burning through my mind.
If Diane had tried to kill me…
what exactly had she been so desperate to keep me from discovering?