"How could you do this to us?" My voice shook, though I did my best to steady it. The incriminating evidence lay open on the table between us-bank statements, emails, and now this video.
My father sat opposite me in his immaculate study, his hands clasped together as if in silent prayer. The man I idolized as a child was now an unrecognizable figure of secrets and lies.
"Luciana," he began, his tone calm but pleading, "you're jumping to conclusions. That video-it's not what it looks like."
I let out a sharp laugh, one that was more disbelief than amusement. "Not what it looks like? It shows you, plain as day, handing over a briefcase to The Broker. Are you really going to sit there and tell me it's fake?"
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I worked with The Broker, yes. Years ago.
