Then she said, “People are capable of carrying two truths that should kill each other.”
I looked at her.
“Your husband may have chosen you for a terrible reason.”
She swallowed.
“He may also have loved parts of the life he built with you.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
“It makes it worse.”
“Yes.”
That was the cruelty.
If every smile had been fake, I could burn the entire marriage in my mind.
Instead, I would never know.
Maybe he targeted me.
Maybe he expected quick access to my father’s assets.
Maybe Dad’s suspicion frightened him into waiting.
Maybe years passed.
Maybe the con became a marriage.
Maybe the marriage became real.
Maybe greed returned when Asterion suddenly became worth millions.
Or maybe every anniversary card had always been another investment.
I would never know which version hurt more.
Months later, Ryan sent me a letter from prison.
