Standing at the entrance of the hall was a man who looked completely out of place—and somehow instantly familiar.
He was worn down, his suit wrinkled, his hair unkempt. His face held years of anger and exhaustion, and his eyes burned with something fierce and desperate.
“Stephanie,” he said loudly, his voice echoing through the room. “If I were you, I’d take a seat. You’ve been fed a lie for fifteen years—and what happens next is going to hurt.”
The room froze.
My knees felt weak. “Who… who are you?”
He scoffed. “I’m your father.”
The words slammed into me.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “My father is dead.”
“That’s what she told you,” he snapped, pointing directly at my mother.
Every eye turned to Karen.
She had gone pale. Her hands trembled as she gripped the back of a chair. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.
Dan stepped forward then, placing himself slightly in front of me. “This is not the time or place.”
