Angelica’s POV:
I curl my fingers around the photo; now creased. There’s a flush of delight flowing through me, and a grin explodes on my face.
He’s alive.
I had always known he was alive.
But, I need - demand - proof.
Everything is going to be alright now.
The glass door flung open, and a family of four enters. The light wind ruffled into space, and I can finally hear the foreign music hosted in the corner.
“Your best bet of finding him is through this guy,” she slides another photo across the table before scooping the dessert into her mouth.
I glance down at the photo, seeing a young man. He had a black jacket and regular rip jeans. “Who’s he?”
“The survivor of your husband kidnapper,” Alice said casually, melting another scoop into her mouth.
Alice taps on top of the pap
