I Received 100 Yellow Roses While My Husband Was Away on a Business Trip – The Number of Flowers Made Me Call the Police

The court-appointed defense attorney was a sharp, middle-aged woman named Eleanor Vance—an ironic twist of fate, sharing the surname of the girl Daniel had struck eighteen years ago, though no relation. She met me in the cramped glass visitor’s booth at the county detention facility three days after the night at the warehouse.

Through the thick, reinforced glass, Daniel looked hollowed out. His face was bruised, stitches running along his jaw, and he wore a bright orange jumpsuit that emphasized how much weight he had lost in seventy-two hours. He sat down slowly, his eyes fixated on the steel table, afraid to make eye contact with me.

I picked up the black plastic phone receiver. Slowly, trembling, Daniel did the same.

"You didn't have to come," Daniel said, his voice coming through the low-quality speaker, small and broken.

"I needed to look at you," I said coldly. "I needed to see if the man I loved for eighteen years was actually in there, or if he was just an illusion created by my father and a killer."

Daniel flinched, tears instantly welling in his red-rimmed eyes. "Amber... I know there are no words that can fix this. I know you hate me. You have every right to hate me. If I could go back to that rainy night eighteen years ago and change what I did, I would trade my life in a second."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. "When my father died six months ago... why didn't you come clean then? Why keep carrying the lie?"

"Because I was terrified of losing you!" Daniel cried out softly, pressing his palm against the thick glass separating us. "I loved you so much, Amber! From the moment I met you, my whole world revolved around you. When that accident happened, I was ready to go to the police. But your father... Thomas convinced me that if I confessed, your life would be destroyed too. He said the media circus would ruin your family. And then, as the years went on... the lie became a monster that lived inside our house. Every time I looked at you, I felt the guilt eating me alive. But I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me with the disgust you’re feeling right now."

"You made me a accomplice to your silence!" I yelled, uncaring that the guard in the corner turned his head. "Every single meal we shared! Every dream we built! It was all a lie! You let my father live with that unbearable guilt until his heart gave out!"

"I tried to stop Amos!" Daniel pleaded, his voice breaking into sobs. "When Thomas died, I found his secret notes. I realized Amos had been using my mistake to blackmail your father into staying silent about the other murdered women! I realized that because of my cowardice, those other families suffered! I went to Amos to try to find proof of his other crimes to put him away, even if it meant exposing myself!"

"And you almost got us both killed!" I slammed my hand against the glass. "You thought you could play hero, Daniel? You're not a hero! You're the coward who ran away!"

Daniel lowered his head, sobbing quietly into his hands, unable to defend himself any longer.

I sat there, watching the man who had been my entire world crumble into pieces. The rage inside me was absolute, but deep beneath the burning anger, a profound, agonizing sorrow washed over me. I missed my husband—the man who made me tea when I was sick, who danced with me in the kitchen, who laughed at my terrible jokes. But that man was a ghost, an elaborate mask worn by a frightened boy who had hidden a dead body in the woods.

"The lawyer says you're taking a plea deal," I said, my voice dropping back down to a cold, distant tone.

Daniel wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded weakly. "Fifteen years. Voluntary manslaughter and failure to render aid. I'm not fighting it, Amber. I deserve every single day of it."

"Yes," I said, standing up from the metal stool. "You do."

"Amber, please..." he begged, looking up at me with absolute despair. "Will... will you ever come back?"

I held his gaze for a long, painful moment. The gold ring he had left on our dresser was still sitting in my purse, cold and heavy.