“I did not want to tell you until I was sure,” Parker said quietly. “Dad borrowed my tablet last month. He forgot to log out. I found all of this by accident.”
The air in the room thinned. For a moment I thought I might collapse, but I held onto the desk. My son’s eyes were full of worry, although he tried to hide it behind maturity he should never have needed.
“There is more,” he murmured.
He opened another folder. This one struck harder than anything else. Bank transfers. A private email account. Photos they had exchanged. One picture was from our Christmas dinner. I had taken it myself. The message attached to it, written by Cassandra, made my stomach twist so violently I felt nauseous.
“I wish she were not in the way.”
She meant me. My own sister. The realization hit like a blow.
I sank into Parker’s chair, numb. Every memory with Cassandra felt like it had been rewritten in an instant. The jokes we shared. The nights we stayed up talking. The secrets I told her. All of it felt tainted.
Parker sat beside me, silent, allowing me space to breathe. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Mom, I am sorry.”