CHAPTER 6 – The Secret from My First Marriage
CHAPTER 6 – The Secret from My First Marriage
The next morning, I met James Reynolds at a quiet café across town.
He looked to be in his early sixties, wearing a faded navy blazer and carrying a leather briefcase that had clearly seen better days.
He stood as I entered.
"You look just like Daniel said you would."
I froze.
"You knew my husband well?"
James smiled sadly.
"He saved my company."
We sat.
Neither of us touched the coffee.
"I don't understand," I admitted.
"What does Margaret have to do with Daniel?"
James slowly opened his briefcase.
Inside were dozens of old folders.
Invoices.
Letters.
Emails.
Photographs.
He pulled out one photograph and slid it across the table.
I stared.
There was Daniel.
Standing beside Ethan.
Both of them smiling at some charity event.
The photo had been taken four years before Daniel died.
"They knew each other."
I whispered the words more to myself than to him.
James nodded.
"They knew each other very well."
"What about Margaret?"
Without speaking, James laid down a second photograph.
Margaret.
Daniel.
Ethan.
All standing together outside a hospital fundraiser.
My chest tightened.
"No..."
"They weren't strangers."
James leaned forward.
"Your late husband invested in Ethan's startup during its first year."
I blinked.
"Ethan never told me that."
"He wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because after Daniel died..."
James sighed heavily.
"...Margaret convinced Ethan that marrying you would help restore the business connections they had lost."
The room spun.
"So..."
"My relationship with Ethan..."
James finished the sentence.
"...didn't begin by accident."
I couldn't breathe.
"No."
"There has to be some mistake."
James reached into the briefcase one final time.
This envelope was sealed.
Across the front was written, in familiar handwriting:
For Sarah—Only If Anything Ever Happens to Me.
Daniel's handwriting.
My eyes filled with tears before I even opened it.
"I've kept this for three years," James said quietly.
"I prayed I'd never need to give it to you."
With shaking hands, I unfolded the letter.
The first line shattered what remained of my world.
Sarah, if you're reading this, it means I was right not to trust Margaret Whitmore...
My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear the sounds of the café around us.
I looked up at James.
"When did Daniel write this?"
James answered without hesitation.
"Exactly two weeks before the accident that killed him."
I stared at him in horror.
"Accident?"
James's face grew pale.
May you like
He slowly shook his head.
"I don't think Daniel's death was an accident at all."
