didn’t know?”
“No. Daniel panicked and changed the records to make it look like Michael had authorized it.”
I stared at her.
For years, Daniel had always told the same story.
Michael betrayed him.
Michael stole.
Michael destroyed everything.
“He framed him.”
“Yes.”
“And Michael found out?”
“He tried to clear his name. Your husband refused to admit what he’d done.”
Rebecca lowered her gaze.
“They fought that night.”
“What night?”
“The night Michael died.”
My stomach tightened.
“The car accident?”
She nodded.
Daniel’s voice suddenly returned to me.
‘Nothing good happens behind a wheel when your head is hot.’
He’d said it whenever I tried driving after an argument.
I’d always thought it was wisdom.
Now it sounded like a confession he had never been brave enough to make.
“So Daniel caused the crash?”
“No. Michael drove away angry, but the crash was an accident.”
“And Daniel let everyone
believe he was a thief after he died.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the transfers.
Eighteen years of payments suddenly meant something different.
“The money was guilt.”
“Partly.”
I looked up.
One word.
Another door opening.
“Partly?”
Rebecca’s face tightened.
“What else were you being paid for?”
“I wasn’t being paid.”
“Then what do you call eighteen years of money from the man who destroyed your husband?”
She became completely still.
My husband.
The words finally connected.
Rebecca H.
Michael H.
I stared at her.
“So that’s what you were to Michael.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel started sending you money after he died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rebecca drew a breath.
“Because Michael left something behind, Daniel could never give back.”
“What?”
Before she answered, someone spoke behind me.
“Mom?”
Rebecca went pale.
I turned.
A young woman stood in the doorway.
Thin.
Tired.
One hand rested against her chest.
Against my son’s heart.
“
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