“So, tell me, Tara,” Helen spoke as if to taunt her. “When did you learn that Mr Adams here was your father?” Adams looked over at Tara with wide eyes. He tried for a smile, but the pain was too much.
“My mom kept a picture of him in her dresser. He was just some man in a photo until I saw him in the paper a couple of years ago.” Anger filled Tara’s words. Her hatred for the man who had left her alone with a brutal, abusive mother. Anger at the man who had everything while she had nothing. The man who had tossed his family aside.
“So, you wanted to make him pay, make him suffer? I can understand that,” Helen said as she refilled her glass and then took a sip from it.
“Is that why you used me to get the disk for you, or rather get him for you?” Tara’s words were cold and angry as she tur
