CHLOE
Lane’s hands fly to his face, covering his eyes the moment I let the sheets fall, his voice panicked as he asks me what I’m doing.
But instead of responding, I demand that he look at me, my voice pleading as I get out of bed and approach him. "Baby, please look at me." My voice is soft as I stop in front of him and attempt to touch him, but he recoils and continues to look away.
Instead, he tries to leave the room, not even replying to my request, but I can’t let him leave. I grab him and block his path, my heart pounding. "Lane, I love you," I say, my voice shaking. "We did not have a father-daughter relationship, as Jacqueline led you to believe. We were deeply in love. "You loved me, and I loved you." I continue, but he shakes his head, his voice straining. “I’m married, and
