I swallowed the sourness burning in my throat, slipped out of bed, and made my way downstairs to the study.
Earlier, while Thaddeus was on the phone with his secretary, his gaze had kept drifting tenderly toward a wooden box on the desk.
I'd rarely set foot in his study before. That box, I had never once opened.
But instinct told me it held the answers I was looking for.
The moment I lifted the lid, the tears I'd held back all night finally broke free.
Inside was a thick stack of letters. The handwriting evolved from the clumsy scrawl of a child to the neat strokes of a student to the bold, confident sweep of a grown man.
Every word, every line was proof that Thaddeus had loved Monica Mason.
"A girl came to the house today. Mom said she's only seven. She's so pretty, like a little princess."
"Monica started middle school. She seems taller again. She follows me around all day calling me 'big brother,' but I don't want to be her brother."
"Monica turned eighteen. I can finally tell her how I feel. But she only seems to see me as a brother."
"Monica got married today. She looked so beautiful in her wedding dress. Just as beautiful as the day she was seven."