Scrolling through the gallery, I was stunned—Ashley’s affair laid bare in photo after photo: laughter in cafés, walks on beaches, holidays that clashed with our own.
The messages were worse: “He suspects something. We need to be careful.” My chest tightened. Had Matthew’s death been an accident—or something darker?
Anger and grief swirled. Ashley, once part of our family, had been hiding a secret life.
Clutching the phone, I made a vow: for Matthew, for Isabella, for truth. Tomorrow, I would find answers—and I wouldn’t stop until I did.
