The figure moved swiftly toward the gate, and Mia’s heart surged with hope. As he stepped closer, his face became unmistakable. It was her father, Fred Williams—tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly trimmed hair and a fitted T-shirt and jeans. He looked well—too well, nothing like the disheveled father she had last seen four years ago.
Mia’s heart surged as the figure stepped out of the gate. For a moment, hope filled her chest, a flicker of disbelief in her voice as she whispered, “Daddy?”
The man paused near the gate, his expression caught between surprise and discomfort. “Mia? What are you doing here? How did you find me?” His voice lowered, as though he was wary of being overheard. “I thought you stayed in…” He hesitated, “Springwood. Isn’t that where you and your mom stayed?”
Mia’
