I believed adopting my late best friend’s four children would be the hardest decision of my life — until a stranger appeared at my door years later. She claimed my friend “wasn’t who she said she was,” and then she handed me a letter. The lies my friend left behind had returned to threaten the life we had built without her.
Rachel had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.
There was never a specific moment when we became close. We simply always were.
In elementary school we sat beside each other because our last names were near each other alphabetically.
In high school we swapped clothes. In college we shared terrible apartments and stories about even worse boyfriends.
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