Walter wrote that he had watched the way Patricia and Grant treated me.
He admitted he should have spoken up more.
He said leaving me the house was the only way he knew to make things right.
A house was only a house, he wrote.
But it was also the most valuable thing he had left to give.
And he wanted it to belong to the one person in the family who had consistently treated others with kindness.
He hoped I would never need it.
But if the day came when I did, it would be there.
I returned every document exactly where I had found it.
And I told no one.
Not even Renata.
For more than a year, I carried that secret alone.
Part of me couldn’t believe it was real.
And as long as my marriage remained intact, it was a bridge I hoped I would never have to cross.
