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“No.”
Nearby conversations hushed. Laura went rigid.
“Knew what?” Dad asked.
I lifted the envelope. “She knew about you and her sister. She knew about the child. And she knew why you stayed.”
“Stop.”
“No,” I said evenly. “You are.”
The color drained from Dad’s face. “That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t,” I replied. “It’s already been done.”
I looked at both of them. “This wedding didn’t secure your future. It revealed the truth.”
We left without a goodbye.
Mom was right. She didn’t battle while she was dying. She won—quietly.