Y se congeló.
It was her.
The woman from the hospital footage.
She held an envelope against her chest.
“Are you Claire?”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mara.”
“Why were you visiting my husband?”
She held the envelope toward me.
“Jack asked me to bring you this.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
– Lo sé.
Su expresión se ablandó.
“He told me to give this to you only after he died.”
I snatched the envelope.
“What is it?”
Mara looked at me strangely.
“¿Así que realmente no sabes lo que te dejó?”
Esa frase me asustó más que el cardigan.
I opened the envelope.
The first page was written in Jack’s handwriting.
“Claire,
I’m sorry you’re learning this without me.
There’s a five-year-old boy named Ethan.
You don’t owe him anything. If you want to stop here, stop.
But if you find him, you’ll understand why I couldn’t walk away.
