My uncle raised me after I lost my parents. I thought he had told me everything that mattered. Then, days after saying goodbye to him, I opened a letter he had left behind. By the end of the first paragraph, I realized my family’s biggest secret had been waiting for me my entire life.

She shook her head. “You read it, beta. Then call me.”

My name was on the envelope in his blunt handwriting.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Several pages slid into my lap.

The first line said: “Hannah, I’ve been lying to you your whole life. I can’t take this with me.”

He wrote about the night of the crash. Not the version I knew.

My chest tightened.