I believed keeping my husband’s last promise would be the hardest thing I would ever do. I was wrong. He had seen something coming that I never did, and the secret he left behind forced me to decide how far grief could push me, how much loyalty I owed, and how fiercely I was willing to defend the man I had lost.
Part One: The Envelope
“Nora, wait!”
I didn’t stop.
If I stopped, someone would say Daniel’s name again. Someone would rest a hand on my shoulder and give me that soft, uncertain look people save for a woman eight months pregnant whose husband has just died.
“Nora, please.”
I turned around.
Dr. Whitaker was rushing down the corridor toward me, a plain white envelope in his hand.
“Daniel gave me this three weeks ago.”
I stared at it as if it might bite.
“What is it?”
“Something he asked me to hold on to. He made me promise I wouldn’t give it to you until now.”
Something twisted low in my stomach.
“Why now?”
Dr. Whitaker looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days.
“He said you’d know when you needed it.”
It was maddeningly vague. It was also so completely Daniel that my throat closed.
I took the envelope.
My name was scrawled across the front in his crooked, hurried handwriting.
“Nora.”
