Chapter 3: The Old Wound
My father stood slowly, but he did not regain his old confidence.
He looked shaken in a way I had never seen before.
“That is not what happened,” he said.
Ethan’s voice stayed quiet.
“Then tell her.”
He nodded toward me.
“Tell your daughter why my mother raised me in rented rooms while you built towers with your name on them.”
I turned to my father.
“Dad?”
For years, he had controlled every room with money, threats, and silence. Now silence had turned against him.
At last, he spoke.
“Before your mother, there was another woman. Clara.”
Ethan flinched at the name.
“She worked in my first office,” my father continued. “She was kind. Smarter than anyone in the building. I loved her, but my father had already arranged my future.”
“So you chose money,” Ethan said.
My father looked at him with wet eyes.
“I chose cowardice.”
That was the first honest thing I had ever heard my father say.
And it terrified me.
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