Chapter 2: The Photograph by the Lake
I sat there frozen.
Ten years.
He had carried something for ten years and said nothing.
"Nathan…
why didn't you tell me before?"
He didn't answer right away.
His jaw tightened.
His hand was still holding mine, but I could feel it trembling.
"Because I was afraid of what it would do to you," he said quietly.
"And because I needed to be sure."
"Sure of what?"
He reached into his jacket pocket and placed something on the table between us.
I looked down.
It was a photograph.
Old.
Slightly creased.
Two men standing outside what looked like a warehouse, shaking hands.
One of them was my father.
The other — I didn't recognize him at first.
Then it hit me.
I had seen that face before.
In the news.
Years ago.
"Nathan," I whispered.
"Who is that man with my father?"
Nathan's expression didn't change.
"That's why they wanted you to marry the partner's son," he said.
"It wasn't about love or family or money.
It was about keeping you close enough to stay silent."
My hands were shaking.
"Silent about what?"
He opened his mouth — and then my phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
It was my mother.
For the first time in ten years.
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