The Dark Secret Behind My Husbands Lifelong Obsession and Our Adopted Daughter
In the bottom drawer, under a stack of old tax returns, my fingers hit something hard.
It was a small, black metal cash box.
I pulled it out and set it on the desk.
The lock on the box was simple, the kind that could be opened with a paperclip.
I opened the top drawer again and grabbed a thick, vinyl-coated paperclip.
My hands shook so badly that I dropped it twice on the desk.
“Come on,” I whispered to myself.
I straightened the metal and inserted it into the lock, twisting it the way I had seen Richard do once when he lost his diary key.
With a sharp pop, the metal latch released.
I opened the lid.
Inside were several thick manila folders bound with heavy rubber bands.
I pulled out the first folder.
The label on the tab was blank.
I slid the rubber band off and opened it.
The first page was a copy of Claire’s birth certificate.
I stared at the names printed on the thick paper.
*Claire Louise Vance.*
*Mother: Rose Marie Gallagher.*
*Father: Unknown.*