Her name was written on it.
She opened it.Inside was a single page.
And this time, the handwriting was not Ethan’s.
It belonged to the woman.
Clara,
Your brother asked me to wait until your eighteenth birthday.
He told me that one day you would be old enough to understand that saving your life wasn’t the end of his story.
It was the beginning of yours.
The photograph you received today was taken by me.
I sent it because I needed to know you were safe before I gave you the rest.
I have something that belongs to Ethan.
Something he gave me six days before he died.
He told me that if he didn’t survive, I was to give it to you when you became eighteen.
At the bottom was an address.
And one final sentence.
Come alone.
Clara looked at me.
For the first time since the envelope had arrived, I saw something different in her
