The room fell into complete silence.
Lucas couldn't move.
Couldn't blink.
Couldn't even look away from Eleanor Ashcroft.
Her grey eyes remained fixed on him, filled with an emotion no one expected.
Not hatred.
Not triumph.
Regret.
"My father..."
Lucas repeated quietly.
"...who was he?"
Eleanor didn't answer immediately.
She slowly removed her leather gloves and looked around Room 117.
At Elizabeth.
At Jonathan.
At Richard.
At Lily.
"So many years..."
she whispered.
"And we're finally standing in the same room again."
Jonathan stepped forward.
"Answer him."
Eleanor smiled faintly.
"You always were impatient."
His expression hardened.
"Twenty years ago you stole lives."
"You don't get to play games anymore."
Her smile disappeared.
"I never wanted his life stolen."
