My voice.
My ability to trust what I saw even when someone I loved insisted I was wrong.
And at last, I understood the cruelest, strangest part of all.
The night I overheard Vivian whisper, “She still has no idea,” she was right.
I had no idea my marriage had been engineered.
No idea my grandmother had once been framed.
No idea Grant’s mother had stolen him from another woman.
No idea the walls surrounding me hid evidence capable of destroying thirty-seven years of lies.
But Vivian didn’t know something
