I was paid to pretend to be a blind veteran’s granddaughter every Sunday—until his final wish after his death changed my life forever.

mother wouldn’t have to push herself to exhaustion anymore.

For the first time in years, we could breathe.

But Walter wasn’t finished.

Whitaker opened another envelope.

“There is one final note.”

He handed it to me.

The handwriting was unmistakably Walter’s.

My hands trembled as I read.

Emily,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably somewhere arguing with angels continue reading …