I was still writing thank-you notes for funeral flowers when Alden’s phone alerted me to a $189 hotel charge.
The motel clerk directed me to room 403. Inside, a teenage employee whispered, “He was here with some blonde lady last week too.” My husband’s phone – wiped clean except for one search about faking death – told the rest of the story.
Police later found him with a coworker near the state border. His elaborate scheme included forged documents and a plan to collect life insurance before fleeing the country.
In court, he had the nerve to say, “It wasn’t personal.” But losing the man I thought I knew? That felt deeply personal.
Now I understand – some goodbyes aren’t tragedies, even when they come disguised as one.
