The air in the church was thick with shock, the silence profound. Helen’s face was a portrait of disbelief and fury, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her. The room seemed to hold its breath, everyone unsure of what to do next. For a moment, I felt as if I was floating, untethered from reality. Could it possibly be true? Could Michael have kept such a monumental secret from me?
Julian Sterling’s presence commanded attention. He moved with a quiet authority, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. “Michael didn’t want you to bear the brunt of his choices, Mrs. Morrison,” he said, turning back to Helen. “He hoped, in his absence, you might find it in your heart to let go of the bitterness that’s poisoned your life.”
Helen’s anger was a palpable force, her face flushed with an anger that had been simmering for years. “This is absurd! A lie concocted by a gold-digging widow and a stranger who walks in here as if—”
