Roland stood frozen, fingers clenched so tightly, staring Zoey in the eyes.
A deal, what game were they playing at this time? Roland’s thoughts sprawled. Memories from earlier outside the hospital came flooding into his mind. Could it be the talk about a bodyguard? Did he even hear that right?
“Mr. Smith,” Zoey called.
Roland fastened his gaze on her.
“What will it be?” She asked, fingers clutching her stomach, staring. “Will you talk to us, or do we make these results public?”
“What results,” Russell’s voice tumbled out. With tears glistening in his eyes, he turned to Roland. “Son, what are they talking about? What is this talk about faking identity?”
Roland’s chest constricted at the heaviness in his father’s voice. He turned to meet Russell’s gaze, heart aching.
“Roland,” Russell
