For several seconds, I remained on the floor of my apartment, staring at it while Carl’s lawyer stood silently in the doorway. Outside, rain slid down the windows in silver threads. The entire world appeared normal—cars moving along the street, neighbors carrying groceries, someone laughing beneath an umbrella.
But nothing inside me was normal anymore.
Carl had known me my entire life.
He had paid for my education.
He had quietly protected me.
And somewhere beneath the floorboards of an old lakeside cabin, he had left the answer to a question he had refused to explain in his letter.
“What question?” I whispered.
The lawyer’s expression tightened.
“My instructions were very specific, Mrs. Bennett.”
The name startled me.
Mrs. Bennett.
I had been Carl’s wife for only ten days. Hearing his surname attached to mine felt like touching something precious that had already disappeared.
“What were the instructions?” I asked.
