{"id":9510,"date":"2026-11-11T13:10:02","date_gmt":"2026-11-11T13:10:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/?p=9510"},"modified":"2026-11-11T13:10:02","modified_gmt":"2026-11-11T13:10:02","slug":"part-4-the-secret-my-father-took-to-his-grave","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/?p=9510","title":{"rendered":"PART 4 \u2014 THE SECRET MY FATHER TOOK TO HIS GRAVE"},"content":{"rendered":"

Alden stood in our kitchen, staring at the envelope in my hands.
\n\u201cYour daddy wasn\u2019t supposed to find out.\u201d
\nThose words hung in the air like smoke.
\nMiriam looked from him to me.
\n\u201cJoanne,\u201d she whispered, \u201cwhat does he mean?\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t answer.
\nMy father had been dead for forty-five years.
\nAnd somehow, my husband was still frightened of him.
\nI unfolded the first handwritten page.
\nDaddy\u2019s handwriting was shaky but unmistakable.
\nMy dearest Joanne, if you\u2019re reading this, then something has happened that I prayed would never come to pass.<\/em>
\nMy throat tightened.
\nI hadn\u2019t seen a letter from my father since the week before my wedding.
\nI continued reading.
\nI have discovered something about Alden that troubles me deeply. I confronted him yesterday, and he begged me not to tell you.<\/em>
\nI looked up.
\nAlden shook his head.
\n\u201cJoanne, that was a long time ago.\u201d
\n\u201cThen you should remember it clearly.\u201d
\nHe took one step toward me.
\n\u201cGive me that letter.\u201d
\nI stepped back.
\nMiriam immediately moved beside me.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s her father\u2019s handwriting, Alden. Leave her alone.\u201d
\nHe stopped.
\nI unfolded the second page.
\nThree months ago, Alden came to me asking for money. He said he had a business opportunity and needed fifteen thousand dollars.<\/em>
\nI blinked.
\nFifteen thousand dollars.
\nIn 1981, that was more money than I\u2019d ever held in my life.
\nI refused. I told him that any man planning to marry my daughter should learn to stand on his own feet.<\/em>
\nAlden lowered his head.
\nTwo weeks later, I discovered that someone had attempted to use my property records to secure a loan without my permission.<\/em>
\nMy hands began trembling.
\nI looked at my husband.
\n\u201cYou tried to borrow against Daddy\u2019s farm before we were even married?\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\nI kept reading.
\nWhen I confronted Alden, he admitted he\u2019d been speaking to a lender about the farm. He claimed it was only an idea and nothing had been signed. I warned him never to involve my property again.<\/em>
\nMiriam covered her mouth.
\n\u201cOh, Joanne.\u201d
\nThe letter continued.
\nI do not know whether you should marry him. That choice belongs to you. But I have decided to leave the farmhouse and every acre solely in your name. No husband should ever be able to take from you what your mother and I worked our lives to build.<\/em>
\nTears blurred the words.
\nFor years, I\u2019d thought Daddy left me the farm simply because I was his only child.
\nNow I understood.
\nHe\u2019d been protecting me.
\nEven before I knew I needed protection.
\nAlden finally spoke.
\n\u201cYour father never liked me.\u201d
\nI raised my eyes.
\n\u201cHe knew you were trying to use his property.\u201d
\n\u201cHe misunderstood everything!\u201d
\n\u201cThen explain it.\u201d
\nAlden dragged a chair away from the table and sat down heavily.
\n\u201cI was young. I wanted to start my own trucking business.\u201d
\n\u201cWith Daddy\u2019s land?\u201d
\n\u201cI thought once we were married, we\u2019d build something together.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cAnd when he said no?\u201d
\nAlden didn\u2019t answer.
\nI looked down at the remaining papers.
\nThere were three photographs.
\nOne showed Daddy standing beside his old pickup.
\nAnother showed him talking to a man outside the county courthouse.
\nThe third photograph made my breath catch.
\nDaddy was standing beside Alden.
\nAnd Alden was holding an envelope.
\nOn the back, my father had written:
\nMarch 19, 1981. Alden returned the papers after our argument.<\/em>
\nI turned the photograph over again.
\n\u201cWhat papers?\u201d
\nAlden looked toward the door.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cNothing important.\u201d
\nI reached into the envelope.
\nAt the bottom was a yellowed receipt.
\nIt was for a payment of two thousand dollars.
\nThe recipient was listed as Alden Kittle.
\nAnd beneath the amount, Daddy had written:
\nFinal repayment. No further business dealings.<\/em>
\nI looked at my husband.
\n\u201cDaddy gave you two thousand dollars?\u201d
\nAlden rubbed his forehead.
\n\u201cHe helped me out once.\u201d
\n\u201cYou told me he never gave you a dime.\u201d
\n\u201cJoanne, I don\u2019t remember every little thing from forty-five years ago.\u201d
\n\u201cApparently, Daddy did.\u201d
\nMiriam gently touched my arm.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cMy husband found the papers inside an old metal box. Most of it was rusted through. But there was another envelope wrapped separately.\u201d
\nShe reached into her coat.
\nAnd handed me a smaller packet.
\nMy name was written across it.
\nNot in Daddy\u2019s handwriting.
\nIn my mother\u2019s.
\nI stared at those letters.
\nMy mother died when I was nineteen.
\nFor nearly fifty years, I\u2019d kept her favorite blue dress hanging in the back of my closet.
\nI still remembered the smell of her lavender soap.
\nAnd now, somehow, she was speaking to me again.
\nI opened the envelope carefully.
\nInside was one sheet of paper.
\nJoanne, sweetheart, your father worries too much about Alden. I hope he\u2019s wrong. But if he isn\u2019t, promise me something. Never surrender your independence just to keep a man happy. Love should never require you to disappear.<\/em>
\nI pressed the paper against my chest.
\nFor a long time, nobody spoke.
\nThen Alden broke the silence.
\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s enough of this nonsense.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\nHe stood and reached for his duffel bag.
\n\u201cI\u2019m going to bed. We can talk about this when you\u2019ve calmed down.\u201d
\nSomething inside me changed.
\nFor forty-five years, I\u2019d watched him end every difficult conversation by walking away.
\nBut tonight, I wasn\u2019t finished.
\n\u201cNo, Alden.\u201d
\nHe stopped.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not sleeping in my bedroom tonight.\u201d
\nHe laughed.
\n\u201cYour bedroom?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cJoanne, don\u2019t be ridiculous.\u201d
\nI walked to the kitchen counter and picked up a small envelope.
\n\u201cI spoke to my attorney about our living arrangements, too. She explained that I can\u2019t simply throw you out without following the law.\u201d
\nHis smile returned.
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\n\u201cSo I\u2019m not throwing you out. But I\u2019m sleeping in the guest room tonight, with the door locked, and tomorrow we\u2019ll discuss a formal separation.\u201d
\nHis smile disappeared.
\n\u201cYou\u2019d end forty-five years over some old papers?\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cNo. I\u2019m considering ending forty-five years because you lied to me for most of them.\u201d
\nHe stared at me.
\nThen he said something I never expected.
\n\u201cYou think you can survive without me?\u201d
\nI took a slow breath.
\n\u201cAlden, I survived thirty-one years delivering mail through ice storms, flooded roads, and summer heat. I think I can manage my own breakfast.\u201d
\nMiriam let out a tiny laugh.
\nAlden grabbed his bag.
\n\u201cFine. You\u2019ll come crawling back.\u201d
\nHe stormed down the hallway.
\nA moment later, the bedroom door slammed.
\nI stood quietly until my hands stopped shaking.
\nMiriam pulled out a chair.
\n\u201cJoanne, are you all right?\u201d
\nI looked at the letters spread across the table.
\n\u201cNo,\u201d I admitted. \u201cBut I think I will be.\u201d
\nShe squeezed my hand.
\nThen her expression turned serious.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something I didn\u2019t tell you about finding that box.\u201d
\nI looked up.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cMy husband wasn\u2019t digging near the shed by accident.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cHe wasn\u2019t?\u201d
\nMiriam shook her head.
\n\u201cA man came by our place yesterday asking questions about your property.\u201d
\nA cold feeling moved through my chest.
\n\u201cWhat man?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said he worked for a company in Harrison. He wanted to know whether Alden still lived here.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t say.\u201d
\nI remembered the eighty-five-thousand-dollar loan.
\nThe forged signature.
\nThe house in Denise Mercer\u2019s name.
\n\u201cDid he leave a name?\u201d
\nMiriam reached into her pocket.
\nShe placed a business card on my table.
\nI picked it up.
\nHARRISON COUNTY FINANCIAL RECOVERY SERVICES<\/strong>
\nBeneath the company name was a phone number.
\nAnd written across the back were four words:
\nRegarding the Kittle property.<\/em>
\nI swallowed.
\n\u201cDid he say anything else?\u201d
\nMiriam nodded.
\n\u201cHe said somebody had stopped making payments.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\nI turned the card over.
\nThen I noticed the handwritten date in the corner.
\nNovember 18.
\nEight days away.
\n\u201cWhat happens November eighteenth?\u201d
\nMiriam hesitated.
\n\u201cHe said you needed to call before then.\u201d
\nI looked toward the hallway where Alden had disappeared.
\nSuddenly, his fear made terrible sense.
\nHe hadn\u2019t just borrowed against my farmhouse.
\nHe might have stopped paying back the money.
\nI picked up my phone and called the number on the card.
\nA recorded message said the office was closed.
\nThen it gave an option to leave a voicemail.
\nI stated my name and asked for a return call.
\nBefore hanging up, I heard the recording mention a reference number.
\nI compared it with the number on the loan document.
\nThey matched.
\nI slowly lowered the phone.
\nMiriam watched my face.
\n\u201cJoanne?\u201d
\nI looked at the photograph of Daddy standing beside Alden.
\nThen at the note my mother had written.
\nAnd finally at the document with the signature that wasn\u2019t mine.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not losing this farm,\u201d I whispered.
\nMiriam straightened.
\n\u201cThen we\u2019re going to find out exactly what\u2019s happening.\u201d
\nBut before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
\nA text message appeared from an unfamiliar number.
\nMrs. Kittle, this is Denise Mercer. I know what Alden did. We need to talk before he discovers I contacted you.<\/em>
\nI stared at the screen.
\nThen another message arrived.
\nAnd please don\u2019t believe everything he told you about the eighty-five thousand dollars.<\/em>
\nI felt my heartbeat quicken.
\nA third message appeared.
\nBecause the money wasn\u2019t all for my house.<\/em>
\nEND OF PART 4 \u2014 CONTINUE IN PART 5: THE OTHER WOMAN KNEW WHERE MY MONEY WENT<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

PART 5 \u2014 THE OTHER WOMAN KNEW WHERE MY MONEY WENT<\/h1>\n

I sat at my kitchen table staring at Denise Mercer\u2019s message.
\nBecause the money wasn\u2019t all for my house.<\/em>
\nFor a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
\nMiriam leaned over my shoulder.
\n\u201cWhat does she mean?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nMy phone buzzed again.
\nCan you meet me tomorrow morning? Nine o\u2019clock. The diner outside Harrison. Please come alone.<\/em>
\nI looked toward the hallway.
\nAlden\u2019s bedroom door was closed.
\nFor forty-five years, that man had made decisions about my money, my home, and practically every hour of my life.
\nNow a woman I\u2019d never met was asking me to keep a secret from him.
\nI typed back.
\nI\u2019ll be there.<\/em>
\nMiriam frowned.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not going alone, Joanne.\u201d
\n\u201cShe specifically asked me to.\u201d
\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll drive separately and sit at another table.\u201d
\nI almost smiled.
\n\u201cMiriam, you\u2019re getting pretty good at this.\u201d
\nShe folded her arms.
\n\u201cI\u2019ve raised seven children and handled a hundred stubborn goats. Your husband doesn\u2019t scare me.\u201d
\nThat made me laugh for the first time all evening.
\nBut when Miriam went home, the laughter disappeared.
\nI sat alone looking at Daddy\u2019s letter.
\nThen I opened my banking app.
\nMy new pension account showed the money safely deposited.
\nFor the first time in years, I could see exactly what belonged to me.
\nIt should have felt wonderful.
\nInstead, I kept thinking about eighty-five thousand dollars.
\nAnd a woman named Denise.
\nThe next morning, I woke before sunrise.
\nAlden was already in the kitchen.
\nHe was drinking coffee from the chipped blue mug I\u2019d bought him on our twentieth anniversary.
\nHe didn\u2019t look at me.
\n\u201cWhere are you going dressed like that?\u201d
\nI glanced down at my clean jeans and flowered blouse.
\n\u201cInto town.\u201d
\n\u201cFor what?\u201d
\n\u201cPersonal business.\u201d
\nHe lowered his mug.
\n\u201cSince when do you have personal business?\u201d
\nI looked straight at him.
\n\u201cSince I remembered I\u2019m a person.\u201d
\nHis expression darkened.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t get smart with me.\u201d
\nI picked up my purse.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s bread on the counter if you\u2019re hungry.\u201d
\nHe stared.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not fixing breakfast?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nHe gave a bitter laugh.
\n\u201cYour new attitude won\u2019t last a week.\u201d
\nI opened the door.
\n\u201cThen I suppose you\u2019d better enjoy the week.\u201d
\nI drove away before he could answer.
\nThe diner sat beside Highway 65, with a faded red sign and windows covered in advertisements for homemade pie.
\nI arrived ten minutes early.
\nMiriam\u2019s pickup was parked across the lot.
\nShe lifted her coffee cup when she saw me.
\nI walked inside.
\nA woman sat alone in the back booth.
\nShe looked about fifty-five, with short brown hair and nervous hands.
\nWhen I approached, she stood immediately.
\n\u201cMrs. Kittle?\u201d
\n\u201cJoanne.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m Denise.\u201d
\nWe studied each other.
\nFor three years, I\u2019d imagined the kind of woman who might be involved with my husband.
\nBeautiful.
\nConfident.
\nSomeone who enjoyed taking what belonged to another person.
\nBut Denise looked exhausted.
\nThere were dark circles beneath her eyes.
\nAnd she was twisting a tissue between her fingers.
\n\u201cThank you for coming,\u201d she whispered.
\nI sat down.
\n\u201cTell me why you contacted me.\u201d
\nShe looked toward the entrance.
\n\u201cIs Alden here?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nShe released a shaky breath.
\n\u201cGood.\u201d
\nThe waitress brought coffee.
\nNeither of us touched it.
\nDenise opened her handbag.
\n\u201cI need to tell you something, and I need you to let me finish.\u201d
\nI nodded.
\nShe placed a photograph on the table.
\nIt was the same brick house I\u2019d seen in Alden\u2019s filing cabinet.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s my home,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nShe swallowed.
\n\u201cAlden told me he was divorced.\u201d
\nI felt something twist in my stomach.
\n\u201cHe told you that?\u201d
\n\u201cYes. He said his marriage ended years ago, but you still lived on the old family property.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cAnd you believed him?\u201d
\n\u201cI did.\u201d
\nShe lowered her eyes.
\n\u201cI was wrong.\u201d
\nFor several seconds, I couldn\u2019t speak.
\nThen I asked, \u201cWere you two having an affair?\u201d
\nDenise nodded.
\n\u201cUntil six months ago.\u201d
\nI looked out the window.
\nCars passed along the highway.
\nPeople hurried into the diner carrying newspapers and talking about ordinary things.
\nMeanwhile, forty-five years of my life were falling apart over a cup of untouched coffee.
\n\u201cWhy did it end?\u201d I asked.
\nDenise wiped her eyes.
\n\u201cBecause I found out he was lying.\u201d
\n\u201cAbout being married?\u201d
\n\u201cAbout that. And about the money.\u201d
\nShe opened a folder.
\nInside were copies of checks and loan documents.
\n\u201cAlden helped me make the down payment on my house. He told me it was money he\u2019d saved from his trucking career.\u201d
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\n\u201cTwenty thousand dollars.\u201d
\nI felt my fingers tighten around my cup.
\n\u201cAnd the rest?\u201d
\nDenise pushed a bank statement toward me.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I came to show you.\u201d
\nI looked down.
\nThere were several large transfers from an account linked to Alden.
\nOne for twenty thousand.
\nAnother for fifteen thousand.
\nThen thirty thousand.
\nAnd finally twenty thousand.
\nEighty-five thousand dollars.
\nBut only the first transfer went toward Denise\u2019s house.
\nThe others went somewhere entirely different.
\nI pointed at the second transaction.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d
\nDenise leaned closer.
\n\u201cA company called Ozark Ridge Holdings.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ve never heard of it.\u201d
\n\u201cNeither had I. Not until I started asking questions.\u201d
\nI looked at the third transfer.
\nThirty thousand dollars.
\nThe recipient was listed as Kittle Transport Ventures.
\nMy heart began pounding.
\n\u201cAlden told me he wanted to start a trucking company years ago.\u201d
\nDenise nodded.
\n\u201cHe told me the same thing.\u201d
\n\u201cBut he never did.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what you think.\u201d
\nI looked up.
\nDenise slid another sheet across the table.
\nIt was a business registration.
\nAnd there, printed clearly beneath the company name, was Alden\u2019s signature.
\nBut another name appeared beside his.
\nMarvin Kittle.<\/strong>
\nI stared at it.
\nMarvin.
\nAlden\u2019s younger brother.
\nThe same brother who had told me every Christmas that I was lucky to have a hardworking husband.
\nThe same brother who always laughed when Alden joked about women not understanding finances.
\n\u201cMarvin?\u201d I whispered.
\nDenise nodded.
\n\u201cThey started the company together.\u201d
\nI shook my head.
\n\u201cMarvin told me he retired from construction.\u201d
\n\u201cHe may have. But his name is on the business documents.\u201d
\nI looked at the date.
\nThree years ago.
\nThe same year the loan against my farm had been recorded.
\n\u201cWhat happened to the company?\u201d
\nDenise hesitated.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s the problem.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat problem?\u201d
\nShe lowered her voice.
\n\u201cThere were debts.\u201d
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know the full amount.\u201d
\nMy stomach sank.
\n\u201cMore than eighty-five thousand?\u201d
\nShe nodded slowly.
\n\u201cPossibly much more.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\nDenise continued.
\n\u201cAlden told me everything was going well. Then six months ago, he started asking me for money.\u201d
\n\u201cFrom you?\u201d
\n\u201cYes. He wanted me to refinance my house.\u201d
\nI leaned back.
\n\u201cDid you?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I found documents in his truck that didn\u2019t make sense.\u201d
\nShe pulled out another envelope.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s when I learned he was still married.\u201d
\nI opened it.
\nInside was a copy of a letter addressed to Alden.
\nThe heading read:
\nNOTICE OF DEFAULT \u2014 KITTLE TRANSPORT VENTURES<\/strong>
\nMy hands went cold.
\nDenise spoke quietly.
\n\u201cAccording to that notice, the company had missed several payments.\u201d
\nI read the letter twice.
\nThe outstanding balance was listed at more than one hundred and forty thousand dollars.
\nI looked up.
\n\u201cDoes this mean they can take my farm?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, Joanne. That\u2019s why you need to show everything to your lawyer.\u201d
\nI folded the paper carefully.
\n\u201cI already have one.\u201d
\n\u201cGood.\u201d
\nShe reached across the table.
\n\u201cI know you have every reason to hate me.\u201d
\nI looked at her hand.
\nThen at her face.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what I feel right now.\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s fair.\u201d
\n\u201cBut I do know something.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cAlden lied to both of us.\u201d
\nDenise began crying.
\nQuietly at first.
\nThen she covered her face.
\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t reach for her hand.
\nI wasn\u2019t ready for that.
\nBut I didn\u2019t yell, either.
\nI\u2019d spent enough years listening to Alden decide which woman deserved blame.
\nI wasn\u2019t about to let him do it again.
\nAfter a moment, Denise wiped her cheeks.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s one more thing.\u201d
\nI waited.
\n\u201cMarvin came to see me last week.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he want?\u201d
\n\u201cHe asked whether I still had copies of the company records.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cI told him I did.\u201d
\nShe looked toward the window.
\n\u201cHe offered me five thousand dollars to destroy them.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cFive thousand?\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\n\u201cHe said the papers could ruin Alden\u2019s life.\u201d
\nI felt anger rise through my chest.
\n\u201cDid you take it?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nDenise\u2019s voice became firm.
\n\u201cBecause I\u2019m tired of being lied to.\u201d
\nFor the first time, I believed she understood something about my life.
\nI gathered the documents.
\n\u201cMay I give these copies to my attorney?\u201d
\n\u201cPlease.\u201d
\nI stood.
\nDenise caught my sleeve gently.
\n\u201cJoanne?\u201d
\nI turned.
\n\u201cBe careful.\u201d
\n\u201cOf Alden?\u201d
\nShe shook her head.
\n\u201cOf Marvin.\u201d
\nSomething in her expression frightened me.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nShe leaned closer.
\n\u201cBecause when I refused to destroy the records, he told me something.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said Alden was only the man signing the papers.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\nDenise looked directly into my eyes.
\n\u201cHe said someone else had been making the decisions.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nBefore she could answer, the diner\u2019s front door opened.
\nDenise went completely still.
\nI followed her gaze.
\nStanding beside the entrance was a tall man wearing a brown work jacket.
\nHe scanned the diner.
\nThen his eyes landed on our table.
\nI recognized him immediately.
\nMarvin Kittle.
\nMy brother-in-law.
\nHe started walking toward us.
\nDenise grabbed my wrist.
\n\u201cJoanne,\u201d she whispered, \u201cdon\u2019t give him those documents.\u201d
\nI slipped the folder inside my purse.
\nMarvin stopped beside our booth.
\nHe looked at Denise.
\nThen at me.
\nAnd smiled.
\n\u201cWell, now. Isn\u2019t this an interesting little family reunion?\u201d
\nI stood slowly.
\n\u201cHello, Marvin.\u201d
\nHis smile faded when he saw my expression.
\n\u201cJoanne, there\u2019s something you need to understand.\u201d
\nI folded my arms.
\n\u201cI\u2019m listening.\u201d
\nHe glanced at Denise.
\nThen leaned closer.
\n\u201cThat loan against your farm wasn\u2019t Alden\u2019s idea.\u201d<\/strong>
\nMy heart skipped.
\n\u201cThen whose idea was it?\u201d
\nMarvin stared at me for a long moment.
\nAnd when he finally answered, I felt the floor disappear beneath my feet.
\n\u201cYou need to ask Alden\u2019s sister, Patricia. She\u2019s the one who arranged everything.\u201d<\/strong>
\nEND OF PART 5 \u2014 CONTINUE IN PART 6: THE SISTER-IN-LAW WHO PLANNED MY RUIN<\/strong><\/p>\n

Click Here to continuous Read\u200b\u200b\u200b\u200b Full Ending Story\"\ud83d\udc49\" PART 6 \u2014 THE SISTER-IN-LAW WHO PLANNED MY RUIN<\/a><\/h1>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Alden stood in our kitchen, staring at the envelope in my hands. \u201cYour daddy wasn\u2019t supposed to find out.\u201d Those words hung in the air like smoke. Miriam looked from … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9514,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9510","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9510","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9510"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9510\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9518,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9510\/revisions\/9518"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9514"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9510"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9510"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9510"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}