The first lie sliced clean. The second rotted everything it touched. By the time she stepped out of that Savannah church, the life she’d been handed was already collapsing under its own weight. A brass key. A storage unit. Her dead mother’s handwriting, waiting like a trigger. A Marine’s “boating accident,” a stepfather who cried on cue, and a trail of paper that turned grief into a perforated script. Each answer she clawed free only sharpened the next question, until the story she’d sworn to protect twisted into something unrecogni… Continues…