kept reading.

Dad wrote about a business he once owned with another man.

Richard Vale.

Together they built a small chain of hardware stores.

Richard handled the finances.

Dad ran operations.

Then money began disappearing.

Hundreds of thousands.

Dad eventually discovered Richard was stealing.

But instead of reporting him, Dad let Richard quietly repay the money.

“Why?” I asked.

Mom whispered, “Because Richard was family.”

I stared at her.

“Whose family?”

She did not answer.

I returned to the letter.

Richard Vale had a daughter.

A little girl Dad had known since birth.

After Richard died, his daughter changed her surname.

Years later, she met me.

I stopped reading.

My pulse seemed to disappear.

No.

I looked at Mom.

“No.”

She cried harder.

I looked at Harold.

He said nothing.

Then I read the name at the end of Dad’s final paragraph.

Vanessa.

My wife was Richard Vale’s daughter.

Her