Ethan POV

The letter sits in my hands, and dread crashes over me. My fingers tremble as I unfold the paper, Grace's handwriting appearing in moonlight—familiar, precise.

I force myself to read.

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**Ethan, By the time you read this, I'll be gone...**

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Each sentence hits like a physical blow—her memories of our beginning, the contract that became something real. Her admission that she loved me. Past tense. ...