My husband’s death shattered me and my son. But losing the family I thought was ours was a different kind of wound. His mother cut us off completely. Months later, I saw her draped in wealth she never had before. Something felt off. Where did the money come from? The truth shook me. Zach and I weren’t rich, but we were happy. God, we were so happy. Our room in his family’s house felt like a palace when filled with laughter—his deep chuckle mixing with our son Benny’s high-pitched squeals.

The morning of my wedding, I woke up feeling light, happy, and a little nervous. Today was the day—after years of saving, planning, and dreaming, I was finally going to marry Leo. Leo and I had worked hard for this. Extra shifts, late nights, skipping vacations—every dollar we had went into making this day perfect. “Gina, just think about all the money we’re saving by not ordering takeout every night,” Leo had joked. “That’s because we’re on a healthy eating plan, remember?” I grinned. Now, after all that sacrifice, it

I never meant to spy on her. But when I saw that little girl with pigtails slipping letters into an old, abandoned mailbox, my curiosity got the best of me. What I discovered would force me to face the ghosts I’d been running from for two years. I woke up to the sound of nothing. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of my old house settling into its foundation. My eyes drifted to the empty pillow beside me—still perfectly fluffed, untouched, just as I’d made