When I found a mysterious note tucked inside my husband Denton’s old coat—“This is between us. No one else can know”—my heart raced. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, and the cryptic message, paired with an unknown phone number, sent a chill down my spine. My mind spiraled with possibilities. I tried to shake it off, to reason with myself, but I couldn’t ignore the gnawing curiosity—or the fear. I called the number. A calm voice gave me an address, nothing more. The next day, I followed the directions,

driving along winding coastal roads until I reached a lavish seaside mansion. My stomach twisted with every step up the stone pathway. What was I about to find? A secret life? A betrayal? The sound of the ocean crashed against the cliffs below, mirroring the storm inside me. Then, the doors flew open. Confetti filled the air. Music swelled. I was met not with scandal, but with laughter, applause, and a sea of familiar faces—friends, family, loved ones from every part of our lives. And there,