I looked around the room.
“What issue?”
Richard glanced toward the door.
It opened.
And my father walked in.
His wife and my stepbrother followed behind him.
My blood ran cold.
My father stopped the moment he saw me.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
His face turned pale.
Then his expression hardened.
“What is he doing here?”
Richard answered calmly.
“He was invited.”
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“You have no right.”
Margaret Ellis stood.
“Actually, Daniel, we do.”
My father glanced around the room.
Then back at me.
“You.”
I said nothing.
He stepped toward me.
“You’ve been looking for me?”
“No.”
His expression shifted.
“Then how—”
“I didn’t find you,” I said quietly.
“You found me.”
He stared at me.
My stepmother moved forward.
“Nathan, this is ridiculous. Your father has been worried sick about you.”
I almost laughed.
“Worried?”
She gave me a pleading look.
“You were eighteen. You needed to learn responsibility.”
I nodded.
“You’re right.”
My father looked surprised.
I continued.
“So let’s talk about responsibility.”
Richard placed a folder on the table.
My father recognized it immediately.
His expression changed.
“What is that?”
“Evidence,” Richard said.
My stepbrother shifted nervously.
“What evidence?”
Richard opened the folder.
“Evidence of intercepted correspondence.”
He laid the photographs across the table.
One by one.
My father standing at the mailbox.
My father taking envelopes.
My father shredding letters.
My father’s hand holding a birthday card addressed to me.
My stepmother stared at the photographs.
