It’s a scene I’ve come across before, with my father: a powerful man, hearing important information from people he trusts. The last thing I want is to walk past them right now, in close competition with the second to last—reprising my conversation with the governor. Still, I’m ready to go back and hear more about the failures of my given name, until:
“—the consequences, if it really is her,” the best man continues.
It’s the her that stops me in my tracks. Because it feels like it might be referring to . . .
Moreland presses his lips together. His jaw clenches and he says something, but his voice is deeper, lower than his companions’. I cannot make out the words over the background noises.
“It must have been a moment of confusion. She cannot be your—” The string music suddenly soars, an
