Page 41 of Forsaken

As she unfolded the letter inside, her eyes locked onto the familiar handwriting. The same swooping 'g's, the distinctive tilt of the 't's. Her father's handwriting, unmistakable even after all these years.

Morgan rushed back to the living room, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors. She thrust both letters side by side under Derik's nose.

"Look," she demanded, her voice hoarse. "Look at the handwriting."

Derik's eyes widened as he compared the two letters. "They're... identical," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. "But how is that possible?"

Morgan sank onto the couch, her legs suddenly weak. "It's not possible," she whispered, more to herself than to Derik. "It can't be."

"Morgan," Derik said gently, sitting beside her. "What does this mean? Who wrote these letters?"

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "The old letter," Morgan explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "it's from my dad. He sent it to me when I was in prison."

Derik's sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room.

Morgan looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of fear and wild hope. "Derik," she said, her voice cracking, "I think... I think my dad just sent me this letter.”

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