PART 2 — THE MAN WHO DIDN’T BUY A WIFE

Abigail stared at the document until the letters blurred.

Twenty years earlier.

Before she was born.

Her father’s signature was there.

But beneath it was another name.

Caleb Brooks.

She looked up.

“Who is Caleb Brooks?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer immediately.

He pulled out a chair.

“Sit.”

Abigail remained standing.

“I’ve spent my entire life believing my parents were poor.”

“They weren’t always.”

Her heart skipped.

Nathaniel opened the ledger beside the contract.

“Your father once owned part of a piece of land near the Blue Ridge foothills.”

Abigail frowned.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“I know.”

“He told me my grandfather lost everything.”

“He told everyone that.”

Nathaniel turned several pages.

“These records say otherwise.”

Abigail stepped closer.

Numbers filled the pages.

Payments.

Land transfers.

Loans.

Timber sales.

Her father’s name appeared repeatedly.

She swallowed.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because two weeks ago, I thought I was bringing a woman to my farm.”

He closed the ledger.

“I was wrong.”

Abigail stared at him.

“What did you think you were bringing here?”

Nathaniel’s eyes softened.

“Someone who had been lied to.”

She looked away.

“I don’t understand.”

“You were never sold because you couldn’t have children.”

Abigail’s breath caught.

Nathaniel continued.

“That was simply the excuse your parents gave themselves.”

She shook her head.

“My father said—”

“Your father wanted you to believe you were worthless.”

Nathaniel’s voice remained calm.

“That made it easier for him to justify what he did.”

Abigail’s eyes filled.

“Then why did he sell me?”

Nathaniel hesitated.

“Because he owed money.”

“To you?”

“No.”

The answer came quickly.

“To someone else.”

Silence settled between them.

Abigail looked at the second pouch of coins.

“How much did my father owe?”

Nathaniel’s expression darkened.

“More than he could ever repay honestly.”

She looked down at the contract again.

“Then what does this have to do with me?”

Nathaniel turned one more page.

There, beneath several faded entries, was Abigail’s name.

Not as an employee.

Not as a wife.

Not as property.

As a beneficiary.

Her hand trembled.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

He looked at her.

“But your father did.”

Abigail sat slowly.

For twenty-two years, she had believed she was the reason her family struggled.

The unwanted daughter.

The girl who could never become a mother.

The burden who had cost too much to raise.

And now she was beginning to understand that perhaps none of it had ever been about her.

Nathaniel reached into his coat again.

This time he removed a small envelope.

There was no address.

Only one sentence written across the front.

For the girl who was never supposed to know.

Abigail stared at it.

“Where did you get this?”

“Your father gave it to me the night I came to your house.”

“Why?”

“He told me to destroy it after you arrived.”

Her eyes lifted.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Nathaniel’s gaze held hers.

“Because I’ve buried too many truths in my life.”

He pushed the envelope toward her.

“I won’t bury another.”

Abigail opened it.

Inside was a single photograph.

Three people stood together beside a farmhouse.

Her father.

A younger Nathaniel.

And a woman Abigail had never seen before.

The woman was holding a baby.

Abigail stared at the child.

Something about the tiny face felt strangely familiar.

She turned the photograph over.

Four words were written on the back.

She is not yours.

Abigail’s blood ran cold.

“Whose child is she?”

Nathaniel looked at the photograph.

“I don’t know.”

“But you recognized the woman.”

“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

Nathaniel’s face changed.

For the first time since Abigail had met him, she saw genuine fear.

“Her name was Elizabeth.”

Abigail waited.

“She was my wife’s younger sister.”

The room seemed to shrink.

“Your wife’s sister?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“She disappeared nineteen years ago.”

Abigail stared at the photograph again.

“Nineteen years.”

“Yes.”

She slowly counted backward.

Her lips parted.

“Nineteen years ago…”

Nathaniel understood.

Neither of them spoke.

Abigail looked at the baby in Elizabeth’s arms.

The age fit.

The timing fit.

And suddenly the medical report lying on the table felt almost meaningless.

She whispered, “You think that baby was me?”

“I think someone wanted me to believe it.”

“Who?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer.

Because outside the farmhouse, somewhere beyond the darkness of the fields, a horse stopped.

Both of them heard it.

Nathaniel stood immediately.

He reached for the lamp.

Abigail froze.

“Is someone here?”

Nathaniel moved toward the window.

A shadow stood at the edge of the property.

A man on horseback.

Watching the house.

Nathaniel’s voice dropped.

“Stay here.”

He reached for the rifle beside the door.

But before he could step outside, the rider turned his horse and disappeared into the darkness.

Abigail rushed to the window.

Something had fallen onto the porch.

A small envelope.

Nathaniel picked it up.

There was no name on the front.

Only a message.

Tell Abigail Carter to stop asking questions.

Abigail felt the blood drain from her face.

Nathaniel looked at her.

Then slowly turned the envelope over.

On the back was a seal.

A seal Abigail recognized.

It belonged to her father.

Her voice barely came out.

“My parents weren’t trying to get rid of me.”

Nathaniel stared at the darkness beyond the porch.

“No.”

Abigail’s eyes filled with tears.

“They were hiding me.”

Nathaniel looked at her.

“And now someone knows where you are.”

For the first time, Abigail understood the terrifying truth.

Nathaniel hadn’t bought her to become his servant.

He hadn’t bought her because she was worthless.

He had brought her to Willow Creek because, somehow, her entire life had been built around a secret that had begun long before she was born.

And now that secret had finally found her.