I read the letter twice.
Then I looked at my mother.
“How did you get this?”
“Your father kept copies of his correspondence in a locked cabinet in his study. After he died, I found the envelope among his old papers.”
“Why didn’t you give it to the police?”
She looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid. Your father had built our life around his business. I knew that if the truth came out, everything would collapse. I told myself that I was protecting you.”
“Protecting me from what? The truth?”
She didn’t answer.
For the first time, I saw the resemblance between her silence and Daniel’s.
They had both decided that they knew what was best for me.
They had both taken choices away from me.
And they had both called it protection.
Daniel stared at the letter.
“That’s the proof I spent years looking for.”
I turned toward him.
