“Open it,” he said, his voice a dry rasp. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.
I didn’t want to. I wanted to slam the door in his face, grab the kids—they were doing homework in the living room, oblivious—and drive far away. But the handwriting on the envelope… it was Mom’s. Familiar, elegant, though slightly shaky.
I ripped the tape. Inside, a thick stack of papers and a single, handwritten letter.
Cade, the letter began. If you are reading this, he finally kept his promise.
I scoffed. Kept his promise? After eleven years of silence?
There are things I couldn’t tell you while I was alive, the letter continued. Things I had to protect you from. Protect all of you from. The truth about the triplets… and the truth about your father.
My heart pounded against my ribs. What truth?
They aren’t just his children, Cade. And his disappearance wasn’t a choice.
I stopped reading. I looked up at the man standing on my porch, this stranger who shared my blood but none of my history. “What does this mean?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “What is she talking about?”
He finally met my gaze, and I saw a fear so deep it chilled me.
“The triplets,” he whispered. “They were… an experiment. And they’re looking for them.”
Before I could ask who “they” were, headlights swept across the lawn. A black SUV idled at the curb. The engine cut off, and four car doors opened simultaneously.
“We don’t have much time,” my father said, panic rising in his voice. “We have to leave. Now.”
But as I looked back at the house, where three eleven-year-olds were laughing over math problems, I realized the secrets in that envelope were about to tear my carefully constructed life apart. And this was only the beginning.
(Story to be continued…)
