The drive back from the abandoned warehouse was a complete blur. My hands gripped the steering wheel mechanically, my tires screeching softly against the asphalt as I tore through the dark, winding roads of the city. The radio was silent. The streets were empty.
Inside my mind, a torrential storm was raging.
My father’s mistress. I am your sister.
Mara’s venomous, tear-strained face flashed behind my eyelids every time I blinked. For my entire life, my father had been an immovable pillar of absolute integrity, kindness, and warmth. He was the man who had gently taught me how to read financial spreadsheets, the one who had held my hand when my mother passed, and the protector who had built Hale Designs from the ground up with untainted ambition. To me, he was a perfect father.
But to Ma
