At home, exhaustion claimed her. She sat in Daniel’s chair, folders spread across her lap, unanswered questions pressing like stones. His last words haunted her again: “I’m sorry. You’ll see.” She whispered back, broken and defiant, “Then show me, Daniel. Show me what you’ve done. Why all this secrecy?”
Word of Daniel’s debts somehow rippled through the family. At Sunday dinner, her sister-in-law leaned close, lowering her voice. “He was always secretive with money, Maggie. You sure he wasn’t hiding something from you?” Maggie stiffened, her appetite fading as whispers painted Daniel in darker shades.