“Aveline.”
I was so sure that I’d never heard that name in my life.
‘Was that my Grandmother’s name or something?’ I wondered, still knowing I was wrong.
My mother had told me her mother’s name was Esther and not this. So who was this Aveline?
Not thinking too much of it, I unclasped the hook, wearing the diamond necklace on my neck.
And for some reason, it felt right to be there.
I picked up my phone, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of the newspapers.
I switched to my browser, searching for ‘Harold Blackwood.’
My eyes flared in shock as I took in the many news and medical reports that immediately popped up on my feed.
My gaze shifted to a blurry picture, of a man and a woman, but the face of the man was unmistakable—my father.
I might have not seen him for over three
