I didn’t really know my husband.
I collapsed to the floor, clutching the letter to my chest.
“Oh my God, Daniel… what have you done?”
I swallowed hard. The children were downstairs, watching cartoons. They didn’t hear their mother collapse.
I reread the letter more carefully.
There were no confessions, only instructions.
On the last line, he had written: “If you decide to look for the rest, use the smallest key. The first answer is in the attic. Please don’t stop there.”
That’s all.
He hadn’t told me what he had done.
He had let me discover it.
I stared at the two keys — one large, one small.
“You planned this,” I whispered. “You knew I’d find him.”
I almost didn’t make it upstairs.
But if I ignored it, I would never sleep again.
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