I stared at her.
“I called you for months.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“Mark told me answering would make things worse for you.”
Then Beth reached into her purse.
She pulled out an old folded letter.
My name was at the bottom.
The signature looked like mine.
Almost.
But the wording didn’t sound like me at all.
And one phrase made my blood run cold.
The letter called Beth by a formal childhood nickname.
A nickname only Mark used when he wanted to annoy her.
I looked up.
“This is fake.”
