Eleanor’s candor was always blunt. She said, “Either he hid money illegally, or he had another family. You need answers.” Eleanor’s bluntness had always been a salve. This time it lit a fuse. Maggie found herself pacing toward answers she wasn’t sure she wanted.
That night, Maggie dreamed of strangers gathered at Daniel’s funeral, children who looked vaguely like him. She jolted awake, sweat dampening her nightgown. Was that what his last words meant? “You’ll see.” Her trust in their life together now felt as fragile as glass.