My stepmother sl:ammed the door in my face after telling me, “Your father was bu:ried without you.” I didn’t scream, I didn’t beg; I walked straight to the cemetery with my prison clothes still in my backpack. But there I discovered there was no grave… only a secret letter that could destroy it.

“But where is my dad buried?” I asked.

The gardener swallowed hard.

“Not here, son. And if you want to know the real story, don’t go back to that woman yet.”

I opened the letter right there. The very first line read: Son, if you are reading this, it means Reagan has already started lying to you.

That was the moment I realized my dad’s death wasn’t the end of it. It was actually the start of something much worse.

PART 2

My dad wrote the letter in his usual messy, blocky handwriting. Reading it felt like he was talking directly to me from the grave.

Son, I am so sorry I never came to visit you, the letter said. It wasn’t because I thought you were guilty. It was because by the time I finally realized what they did to you, I was already very sick and they were watching my every move.