The Biker I Tried To Kill Years Ago Just Showed Up To Hold My Hand As I Die

She did it. Gave away her daughter. Gave away Marcus’s daughter.

And then Emily left too. Moved to California. Barely spoke to me for twenty years. When she finally came back into my life, she was different. Broken. She’d never married. Never had other children. Never recovered from losing Sarah.

Emily died of breast cancer in 2015. Her last words to me were: “I’ll never forgive you for what you took from me.”

I deserved that. I deserved worse.

But now Marcus was sitting beside my deathbed, holding my hand, showing me a photo of the granddaughter I’d forced Emily to give away.

“How did you find her?” I asked.

“I never stopped looking.” Marcus’s voice was steady but his eyes were wet. “The night you pointed that shotgun at me, I made myself a promise. I swore that someday I’d find my child. I’d find Emily. I’d prove I wasn’t what you said I was.”

“I spent fifteen years searching. Hired investigators. Followed leads. Hit dead ends. But I never gave up.”

He pulled out another photo. A young woman in a graduation gown. She looked exactly like Emily at that age. The same eyes. The same smile.Continue reading…