Paris’s eyes were inquisitive, and I feared that he would say something to Hunter that would suggest that I was lying.
Was it probable? I never really stopped to think about this. I didn’t know when I found out my mother’s real name, Stephanie. Right now, I’d say that it was like I always knew it. But at some point, it was a mystery to me.
So, was my story believable?
Finally, Paris turned to him and said, “It’s highly possible. I saw it happen a lot, especially in my time. We were kicked out for nothing. Others were killed. I probably knew your parents, Scarlett.”
I gulped. To cement my lie, I asked, “Did anyone have red hair like me?”
“No,” he admitted. “Not that shade, anyway.”
Paris looked at Hunter and nodded, and I realized that I was right. He called him here in hopes that h
