carried a leather briefcase.
And an envelope with my name written in Richard’s handwriting.
I assumed he had come to discuss the inheritance.
After all, I was Richard’s wife.
Instead, the lawyer looked at me and said something that shattered everything I thought I knew.
“Richard knew you’d agree to marry him.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He continued.
“But unfortunately, his will leaves you nothing from the estate.”
My hands began to tremble.
Had Richard’s kindness been an act?
Had the entire marriage been some cruel game?
Then the lawyer handed me the envelope.
“Open this,” he said. “You’ll understand everything.”
Inside was an old newspaper photograph.
I looked at it.
And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
The photograph showed a much younger Richard standing outside a renovated children’s shelter.
In his arms was a frightened little girl.
A little girl with tangled hair.
A little girl I recognized.
Me.
