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When I finally found my voice, I asked, “Why now, Eleanor? Why tell me all of this?”
She closed her eyes and said softly, “Because I’m dying, Ethan.”
She continued, “I have terminal pancreatic cancer. The doctors gave me months, maybe less. I didn’t want to leave this world with lies. I wanted someone I could trust — someone who would understand who I really am.”
She handed me a folder — legal documents transferring her entire estate to me, along with a notarized will.
“All I ask,” she whispered, “is that you protect what’s good — and never reveal the rest. Let Eleanor Hayes die a good woman in the world’s eyes.”
I couldn’t stop the tears. Not because of the money or the confession, but because, in that moment, I finally understood: loving someone means accepting the whole truth — even the parts that hurt.
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