Cily
Maybe it was a dream.
It's what I wanted to believe as I stood outside my dad's office. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear very clearly what was being discussed. My hand hovered over the door, as I debated whether to knock or leave him alone, since he was in a meeting.
I could hear voices inside.
It is probably no fault of his, since my father loved privacy, and even as a growing little girl, my father made sure he always locked his doors. I never understood why, but now, standing in the hallway, I did.
“So what is it going to be? I need eyes on her at all times.” My father was saying to whoever was in the office with him.
Her? I stifled a laugh at the thought of my father being romantically involved with a woman. Ever since the death of my mother, he’d never been in a
