I pressed my hand against my mouth, sick with disbelief. “This has to be a mistake,” I whispered. “Maybe it’s a different Rebecca Morales. Maybe—”
Dad shook his head violently. “No. She wrote details only Rebecca would know — about our childhood, about our parents. It’s her. There’s no doubt.”
“Why didn’t you stop the wedding?” I demanded.
His voice cracked. “How could I? Without proof, I would have destroyed her happiness on the biggest day of her life. I had to be sure. But now, you know. And together… we have to tell her.”
The Longest Night
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