Chapter 2 No

The words landed quietly. But inside her, everything shook.

No. No, that couldn't be right. Her breath caught in her throat.

"What?" she whispered, hoping she'd probably heard wrong.

Sister Agnes shifted behind her, but said nothing.

Victor did not look away as he said again, "I am your biological father."

Biological. That was such a clinical word. Emily felt like she was floating outside her own body.

How could he be her father? Fathers did not appear out of nowhere. Fathers did not wait twenty-two years and fathers did not look at their daughters like business arrangements like this Victor was doing right now. It didn't make any sense.

"You're mistaken," she said quickly. "There must be a mistake."

"There is no mistake," he replied.

Her heart began pounding harder. If he was telling the truth… then everything she believed about herself was wrong.

All the nights she stared at the ceiling wondering why she was left. All the times she told herself maybe her parents were dead. Maybe they were poor. Maybe they were too young and didn't want her, all those times were a lie.

But this man… This man did not look helpless. He looked powerful. So why would he....

"If you were my father," she said slowly, her voice trembling despite her effort, "why didn't you come before? Why did you leave me in an orphanage?"

There it was. The question that had lived in her chest for twenty-two years.

"There were circumstances," he answered, looking her straight in the eyes.

The calmness in his tone hurt more than anger would have.

"Circumstances don't last twenty-two years," she whispered.

His jaw tightened slightly. "I could not acknowledge you before now."

Not didn't know, not searched for you but could not.

The words cut deeper than she expected.

"So why now?" she asked, raising her chin.

"Because it is time."

"Time for what?" she asked, her confusion mixing with her shock.

She felt like the ground beneath her feet was shifting.

He looked around the small office briefly, his gaze taking in the old furniture, the worn carpet.

"You have lived here long enough," he said. "You will be coming with me."

Her heart slammed hard against her ribs.

Coming with him? Leaving? How could she just go with him? Why had he thought she'd even do that?

The orphanage might not have been perfect. It might not have been warm or full of laughter all the time. But it was hers. It was the only place that had not abandoned her. It was her home.

Clara. The children, her tiny room, all of that had been her life for the past twenty two years.

"You can't just show up and take me," she said, more sharply than she expected.

"I can," he replied evenly. "And I will."

Sister Agnes finally spoke, her voice careful. "Emily, we have verified his documents. The records confirm what he is saying."

Emily looked at her in disbelief. "You knew?" she whispered.

Sister Agnes's eyes softened. "We only found out after he came yesterday."

Everything was happening too fast that she had barely enough time to think. Emily looked back at Victor.

If he was her father… why did she feel no warmth? No connection? And no relief whatsoever?

Why was she feeling only confusion and fear?

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked quietly.

He met her eyes steadily. "Because it was not necessary."

The answer landed like a slap to her face.

Not necessary. Her entire existence had not been necessary. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

Victor straightened his jacket. "Now, you come home."

Home. The word sounded foreign in her ears. For twenty-two years, she had dreamed of someone walking through that gate and saying they had been searching for her.

But she had imagined tears, apologies and open arms, not this. Not a stranger in an expensive suit speaking like he was discussing a business deal.

She studied his face again, searching desperately for something human.

"Do you…" Her voice cracked slightly. "Do you even know what my favorite color is?"

The question surprised even her but she still looked at him for an answer.

Victor paused, clearly not expecting that. "No," he answered honestly.

Emily swallowed hard. Of course he didn't. What had she been expecting? He did not know that she hated loud thunderstorms. That she loved reading old romance novels or that she used to count the stars at night and wonder if one of them belonged to her real parents.

He did not know her an

d yet he claimed her. Her hands trembled slightly, but she forced her voice to stay steady.

"No," she said finally, the word surprising even her.