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All of them were written to her.
And all of them were signed by the same man.
Daniel.
One sentence appeared in letter after letter.
“I will come back for you and our son when the time is right.”
Our son.
The letters spoke about a boy named James.
My firstborn.
The boy I had raised.
The boy I believed was mine.
The next morning I confronted Martha.
Through tears she told me the truth.
Before she met me, she had been engaged to a young man named Daniel. He was drafted to Vietnam in 1966. Shortly after he left, she discovered she was pregnant.
Then news came that his plane had been shot down.
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