A Child’s Honesty, A Mother’s Awakening – Page 4

He looked up, startled by the question. “Since childhood. You know that.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But Ben said he saw something today. You two seemed… close.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Julia, I just buried my father. Don’t start with this now.”

His tone was sharp — defensive, dismissive. I wanted to believe him. But something in the way he said it felt rehearsed, too easy.

And so, the next morning, I decided to find the truth for myself.

For years, Arthur and I had shared a work email account back when we ran small projects together. He’d long forgotten about it, but I hadn’t.

That day, with trembling hands, I logged in.

The inbox was full of corporate messages — contracts, travel arrangements, invoices — all routine. But then I saw them: the personal emails.

Late-night messages. Hotel bookings. Photos from trips he had said were “for business.”

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