Chapter 5: The Truth Sloan Wanted
Harrison left my house without saying goodbye.
That hurt.
But I understood.
His whole world had shifted in one morning.
The woman he married had spent months poisoning his relationship with me.
And the mother he trusted had hidden something important.
Even if my reasons were different, the result was the same.
I had kept a secret.
That afternoon, I drove to Harrison and Sloan’s house.
I needed answers.
Their neighborhood was exactly the kind Sloan loved.
Perfect lawns.
Perfect cars.
Perfect appearances.
But behind those closed doors, I had learned perfection was usually just a costume.
I knocked.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Then I heard footsteps.
The door opened.
Sloan stood there.
She was wearing expensive sunglasses indoors.
Of course she was.
“You came.””
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
I stepped inside.
“Where is my husband’s letter?””
Her smile was small.
“Your husband?””
I looked directly at her.
“Don’t play games.””
She closed the door behind me.
“I’m not playing anything.””
“You broke into my house.””
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Strong accusation.””
“You took a photo of something that was hidden.””
Sloan walked toward the kitchen.
“I found something that should have belonged to Harrison.””
I followed.
“You had no right.””
She laughed softly.
“No right?””
She turned around.
“That’s interesting coming from the woman who kept his father’s last words from him.””
The words hit hard.
Because she knew exactly where to strike.
“You don’t know the reason.””
“I know enough.””
“No. You don’t.””
She leaned against the counter.
“Then explain it.””
I stared at her.
For a moment, I almost told her everything.
But then I remembered something.
Sloan didn’t want the truth.
She wanted a weapon.
“You already decided I was guilty.””
She smiled.
“Because you are.””
I looked around.
The house was filled with expensive decorations.
Things Sloan had bought.
Things she displayed.
Things she used to prove she had won.
Then I noticed something.
A folder sitting on the counter.
Half-covered by a magazine.
I recognized the handwriting.
My husband’s.
My heart stopped.
“What is that?””
Sloan quickly moved in front of it.
“Nothing.””
“Move.””
Her expression changed.
“No.””
That single word told me everything.
I stepped closer.
“Sloan, what did you do?””
She crossed her arms.
“You’re going to blame me?””
“I don’t know what you’ve done yet.””
She smiled.
“Exactly.””
The confidence in her voice bothered me.
She wasn’t afraid.
She had planned this.
“You think Harrison will choose you after he finds out what’s inside that letter?””
My stomach tightened.
“What did you read?””
She said nothing.
That silence was enough.
“You opened it.””
She looked away.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“You opened my son’s letter.””
Sloan’s face hardened.
“And now Harrison knows you lied to him.””
I felt anger rise in my chest.
Not the anger from the birthday cake.
Something deeper.
Something older.
“You have spent a year trying to destroy my relationship with my son.””
She smiled.
“Maybe it deserved to be destroyed.””
“Why?””
For the first time, her confidence slipped.
Just slightly.
Then she whispered:
“Because your husband knew what you did.””
I froze.
“What did you say?””
Sloan reached for the folder.
She pulled out a single piece of paper.
Then she placed it on the counter.
“Read it.””
I looked down.
The signature at the bottom made my blood run cold.
Because it wasn’t my husband’s.
May you like
It was mine.
And underneath my signature were words I had never written.
