Seven
“It could’ve been anything,” Grace argued as the auto rolled to a stop at the curb outside her house.
Heron was as animated as she was. “It could’ve been an anti-VR manifesto or it could’ve been a hard copy of his last will and testament, hiding what his end-of-life plans really were.”
“Or confirming them,” she said, unwilling to completely table the idea that Tristan wouldn’t change his mind about VR if given a terminal diagnosis.
One could argue that no one knew him better than his sister, his own flesh and blood, but Grace’s faith in outward appearances had been shattered when she’d discovered her dead husband’s truth.
He’d kept part of himself well hidden from her. That part was a total stranger who saw her every day and slept beside her every night.
On the outside, he’d be
