Chapter 2
I read the first line three times.
My brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
Rachel had known Sarah?
Not casually.
Not through me.
The wording of the letter made it sound like they had shared something I knew nothing about.
I unfolded the page with trembling hands.
Emma stayed close to my side.
Rachel stood several feet away, suddenly calmer.
Too calm.
“Read it,” she said.
I ignored her.
The letter continued.
Daniel,
There are things I should have told you before now. I kept putting them off because I was afraid of what they would do to us. Rachel knows more than you think. If she ever becomes part of Emma’s life, please don’t assume it happened by accident.
My mouth went dry.
I looked at Rachel.
“How did you know Sarah?”
Rachel lifted her chin.
“Keep reading.”
“No.”
“Then you’ll never understand.”
I took my phone from my pocket.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“Who are you calling?”
“My mother.”
“You’re not dragging Margaret into this.”
“I’m getting Emma out of here.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“Daniel, don’t.”
I held up one hand.
“Stay where you are.”
I called my mother.
She answered on the second ring.
“Daniel?”
“Mom, I need you to come over.”
My voice sounded strange even to me.
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
Silence.
Then her tone changed.
“I’m leaving now.”
“Don’t call Rachel. Don’t call anyone. Just come.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I hung up.
Rachel laughed under her breath.
“Your mother always wanted our marriage to fail.”
“This isn’t about my mother.”
“It always is with you.”
Emma tugged my sleeve.
“Daddy?”
I knelt.
“Yes?”
“Can I pack my backpack?”
The fact that she knew she needed to pack broke something inside me all over again.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
She looked toward Rachel.
“Can Bunny come?”
I swallowed.
“Bunny is never leaving you again.”
Emma ran upstairs.
I started after her.
Rachel blocked the staircase.
“You’re not taking her upstairs alone.”
I stared at her.
“What did you just say?”
“If you’re going to accuse me of abusing her, then I’m not giving you an opportunity to coach her.”
I nearly laughed from disbelief.
“You think I’m the danger now?”
“I think you’re emotional.”
“My daughter told me you lock her in a closet.”
“She said I put a chair under the handle. That is not a lock.”
I couldn’t believe she was arguing semantics.
“You recorded her crying.”
“For documentation.”
“Documentation of what?”
“Her behavior.”
I held up the recorder.
“You documented yourself threatening a grieving child.”
Rachel rubbed her temples.
“You don’t understand what I dealt with.”
“Then explain it.”
“I tried.”
“No. You lied.”
She stared at me.
For one second, something cracked in her expression.
Then she said quietly, “Sarah warned me you wouldn’t listen.”
I froze.
“Stop using her name.”
“Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”
“Because you didn’t know her.”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“I knew her before you did.”
I said nothing.
She walked to the kitchen and pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, Daniel.”
“No.”
“You want answers?”
“I want my daughter safe.”
“And I want you to understand that your perfect dead wife had secrets.”
My jaw tightened.
Rachel noticed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The pedestal.”
“Don’t.”
“You’ve spent four years turning Sarah into a saint.”
“She died.”
“Yes. And somehow that means everyone else has to compete with a ghost.”
“This has nothing to do with what you did to Emma.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
I heard footsteps upstairs.
Emma was moving around her room.
I wanted to go to her.
But Rachel had said something I couldn’t ignore.
“How did you know Sarah?”
Rachel stared at the table.
“We were friends in college.”
I felt as though she had slapped me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Sarah never mentioned you.”
“That was deliberate.”
“Why?”
“Because we stopped being friends.”
“When?”
“Two years before she met you.”
I searched my memory.
Sarah had shown me college pictures.
She had told me stories about roommates, professors, stupid parties, failed exams.
Never Rachel.
Not once.
“You’re lying.”
Rachel stood and walked toward the box.
She picked up one of the remaining envelopes.
“Recognize this?”
The envelope was addressed to Rachel.
Sarah’s handwriting again.
Rachel handed it to me.
I didn’t open it.
“Where did you get these?”
“Sarah sent them.”
“When?”
“The last year of her life.”
I stared at her.
“You were in contact with my dying wife?”
“Occasionally.”
“And she never told me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rachel looked toward the stairs.
“Because she was worried you’d react exactly like this.”
I wanted to call her a liar.
But Sarah’s handwriting was impossible to deny.
Then I noticed the postmark.
Four years earlier.
Seven months before Sarah died.
My knees weakened.
I sat.
Rachel remained standing.
“You think I just appeared in your life by chance?”
My mind flashed back to the first time I met Rachel.
A charity auction eighteen months after Sarah died.
She had bumped into me near the bar.
I spilled wine on her sleeve.
She laughed.
We talked for twenty minutes.
Then she gave me her number.
I had always called it fate.
Now my stomach turned.
“You planned meeting me.”
Rachel didn’t answer.
“Did you?”
“Sarah asked me to check on you.”
I stood again.
“No.”
“She knew you’d fall apart after she died.”
“Stop.”
“She knew you’d bury yourself in work.”
“Stop.”
“She knew Emma would need someone.”
“Stop!”
Emma appeared at the top of the stairs.
Her backpack hung from both shoulders.
She froze.
I immediately softened my voice.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
She slowly came down.
Her rabbit was tucked under one arm.
A framed picture of Sarah was clutched against her chest.
Rachel looked at the photograph and rolled her eyes.
Emma saw it.
I saw Emma see it.
That tiny reaction told me everything.
Whatever history existed between Rachel and Sarah, none of it excused what she had done.
I walked to Emma.
“Grandma’s coming.”
Emma nodded.
“Are we sleeping at Grandma’s?”
“Yes.”
“For how many nights?”
“As many as you want.”
Rachel slammed her palm on the table.
“You cannot make decisions like that without discussing them with me.”
Emma jumped behind me.
I turned.
“You’re still frightening her.”
“I’m frustrated!”
“She’s six.”
“And she knows exactly how to play you.”
“Enough.”
“You think children don’t manipulate adults?”
“Enough.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with fury.
“She has spent years making me feel like an outsider in my own home.”
I stared at her.
“She is a child who lost her mother.”
“And I tried to become one!”
“No. You tried to erase the one she had.”
Rachel went silent.
That hit.
I could see it.
She looked at the rabbit.
Then the album.
Then Emma.
“You want the truth, Emma?”
“Rachel.”
“You want to know why your mother sent me those letters?”
“Don’t speak to her.”
Rachel ignored me.
“Your mommy knew—”
I moved between them.
“That’s enough.”
Rachel shoved the second envelope into my chest.
“Read it.”
I took it without meaning to.
She whispered, “Sarah didn’t trust you to raise Emma alone.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
“That’s not true.”
“Read the letter.”
I looked down.
Emma was watching me.
I didn’t want to open it in front of her.
I placed it on the table.
Rachel laughed.
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m protecting my daughter.”
“From Sarah?”
“From you.”
Headlights swept across the front window.
My mother’s car.
Emma ran toward the door.
“Grandma!”
I followed.
Margaret entered before I could explain.
She saw Emma crying.
She saw the backpack.
She saw Rachel.
Then she saw my face.
“What happened?”
Rachel spoke first.
“Daniel is overreacting.”
My mother didn’t even look at her.
She knelt in front of Emma.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Emma threw herself into her arms.
Grandma hugged her.
“I want to go to your house.”
Margaret’s eyes met mine.
I nodded.
“Take her.”
Rachel stepped forward.
“No.”
My mother finally looked at her.
“No?”
“She is my stepdaughter.”
“And Daniel is her father.”
“This is my home.”
Margaret’s gaze sharpened.
“Emma, go wait in Grandma’s car.”
Emma looked at me.
“Daddy?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
She hesitated.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
My mother took her hand.
Rachel moved toward the doorway.
I blocked her.
“You’re not stopping them.”
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Maybe.”
Margaret walked Emma outside.
I watched until my daughter was inside the car.
Then I shut the door.
Rachel and I were alone.
She folded her arms.
“So now what?”
“Now you tell me everything.”
Rachel looked at the box.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
She sat.
I remained standing.
Rachel took a long breath.
“Sarah and I were best friends from nineteen to twenty-two.”
“What happened?”
“She betrayed me.”
“How?”
Rachel’s lips tightened.
“She slept with my fiancé.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard.
“What?”
“His name was Michael.”
I shook my head.
“Sarah would never—”
“She did.”
“No.”
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“See? Saint Sarah.”
“I knew my wife.”
“You knew the version she gave you.”
I stared at her.
“Why would Sarah contact you years later?”
“Because she was dying.”
“That doesn’t explain it.”
“She wanted forgiveness.”
“And you gave it?”
Rachel looked away.
“Eventually.”
“Then why punish Emma?”
Her expression changed instantly.
“I didn’t punish Emma because of Sarah.”
“You hid everything connected to her.”
“Because Emma kept comparing me to her.”
“She’s a child.”
“You keep saying that like children can’t hurt people.”
I stared at the woman I married and felt like I was seeing a stranger.
“How long have you hated my daughter?”
Rachel stood abruptly.
“I do not hate Emma.”
“Then what do you call this?”
“I was trying to make her stronger.”
“You made her afraid.”
“She needed boundaries.”
“You made her stand on a chair over hot water.”
“She was washing dishes.”
“You locked her in darkness.”
“She wouldn’t stop screaming.”
“Because you locked her in darkness!”
Rachel covered her face.
For the first time, she began crying.
“I was overwhelmed.”
I didn’t respond.
“I never wanted this.”
“What?”
“This life.”
My stomach dropped.
She lowered her hands.
“I thought Sarah was giving me a chance to repair what happened between us.”
“You married me because Sarah told you to?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Rachel looked toward the front window.
“When I met you, I intended to check on you. That was all.”
“And then?”
“I fell in love with you.”
I wanted to believe that.
Part of me desperately wanted one piece of our marriage to be real.
Then my eyes returned to the notebook.
Emma cried about Sarah.
Closet.
No dinner.
Reality crushed hope.
“You need to pack.”
Rachel stared.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I’m taking Emma to Mom’s. You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow I’m calling a lawyer.”
Her face went blank.
“Daniel.”
“I’m done.”
“If you file for divorce, those letters become evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Rachel walked over to the table and tapped the unopened envelope.
“Read the second page.”
“There is no second page.”
“Yes, there is.”
I looked at the first envelope again.
Two sheets had stuck together.
I separated them.
Halfway down the second page, I saw a sentence that made my hands turn cold.
If anything happens to me, I need you to know Daniel is not Emma’s biological father.
I stopped breathing.
Rachel watched my face.
May you like
“I told you,” she whispered.
“Your perfect family was built on secrets.”
