But why hide it? And why the cryptic message suggesting he was alive? My mind swirled with possibilities. Had Richard sensed danger? Or had he uncovered something about our children—something I had been too blind to see?

As I pondered, the phone buzzed again. The same unknown number. My fingers hesitated before opening the message:

“There are things you don’t know. Meet me at our place tomorrow. Midnight.”

Our place. The secluded cabin by the lake where we often retreated to escape the world. My heart skipped. Could it truly be Richard? Or was I being lured into a trap?

Anxiety gnawed at me, each theory more incredible than the last. My children’s behavior, the urgency of the estate settlement—it all begged for explanation. What had happened to the loving family I thought I knew?

I folded the will back into its envelope, my resolve strengthening. If Richard was alive, I needed to know why this charade was necessary. If not, then I had to uncover who was orchestrating this elaborate deceit.

The night wore on, my mind restless with plans and contingencies. The rain drummed softly against the windows, a steady lullaby that was both comforting and foreboding. Tomorrow, I would go to the cabin. And whatever awaited me there, I had to face it alone.

With a determined breath, I placed the envelope in my safe, then turned out the light. The path ahead was veiled in uncertainty, but deep down, I knew I had to take the first step. For Richard. For myself. For the truth.