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
We sat in silence for hours, the letter between us on the kitchen table. I wanted to believe it was fake, some cruel trick. But the handwriting, the details — it all felt undeniable.
I imagined Emily in her dress, spinning under the reception lights, glowing with joy. And my chest ached.
How do you tell your sister her wedding vows were built on a lie?
By dawn, Dad was resolute. “We can’t delay. The longer we wait, the worse it gets.”
The Confrontation
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