Chapter Thirteen: The Dead Do Not Write Letters
Lila's world cracked open.
Her hands shook as she read the letter again and again. Marcus was alive. Hidden. Forced into disappearance by the same forces that once dragged him away from her. His "death" had been a deliberate erasure—one meant to protect him and anyone tied to his name.
Including her.
He wrote of regret. Of unfinished love. Of watching her from a distance and letting her go because he believed it was the only way she could live safely.
Now he was free.
And he wanted to see her.
The sin was no longer theoretical—it was breathing again.
That night, Lila stood in the bathroom staring at her reflection, wedding ring heavy on her finger. Ethan knocked softly on the door.
"You're shaking," he said.
She almost told him the truth.
Almost.