I never stopped believing Alexander was alive.
Until that night in the mansion.
Until now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alexander’s voice pulled me back into the present.
I stared at him.
“I thought you were dead.”
His expression hardened.
“I thought you were dead too.”
I froze.
“What?”
He reached for the necklace.
“Your family told me you left Chicago with another man.”
My mouth fell open.
“My family?”
He nodded.
“They told me you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“They showed me a letter.”
My chest tightened.
“What letter?”
“A letter supposedly written by you.”
I stepped closer.
“What did it say?”
His eyes met mine.
“That you had chosen someone else.”
I shook my head violently.
“I never wrote that.”
“I know.”
The words came out quietly.
“I know now.”
Silence filled the bathroom.
Twenty years of grief suddenly had a shape.
