Her eyes widened.
“That’s where I found the license.”
An hour later, we were prying up the loose floorboard. Beneath it lay a small metal box. Inside was a USB drive and another letter.
This one was addressed to both of us.
To Kayla and Marissa,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone—or you’ve figured out the truth. Either way, I owe you both an explanation.
I’m not proud of the man I was. The things I did.
But I tried to change. To start over. I thought love could fix me.
Instead, it destroyed everything.
The files on this drive will expose the truth. Use them wisely. Protect yourselves—and my sons.
Marissa and I exchanged a glance.
Whatever bond we once shared was fractured beyond repair, but in that moment, we were united by necessity.
We plugged the drive into her laptop. What we found was staggering: evidence of his crimes, names of accomplices, proof of his fabricated identity. Enough to bring him down—if we chose to act.
In the end, we decided to turn the files over to the authorities anonymously.
Letting go of revenge wasn’t easy, but holding onto anger wouldn’t heal us either. As for Marissa, we agreed to part ways—not as friends, but with a fragile understanding. Forgiveness might come someday, but it would take time.
As for me, I realized something important: forgiveness isn’t always about others; sometimes, it’s about freeing yourself.
Moving forward, I vowed to focus on building a life filled with honesty and purpose.
Life has a funny way of teaching lessons, often through pain. Mine taught me that trust can be broken, but resilience can rebuild. And sometimes, even in betrayal, there’s a chance to rediscover who you truly are.
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