Elena's POV
"He already knows who your father was."
I read the message three more times before the words finally stopped rearranging themselves into something less terrifying, my thumb hovering uselessly over the screen, no idea in the world how to respond to a sentence that confirmed every fear I'd been trying to talk myself out of since the photograph first appeared in my folder.
I made it as far as the restroom before my legs stopped cooperating.
The door swung shut behind me, sealing out the office noise, and I gripped the edge of the sink hard enough that my knuckles went white, staring at my own reflection like it might offer some answer the mirror clearly didn't have. My face looked wrong. Too pale, eyes too wide, the careful composure I'd spent six months perfecting cracking ap
