We sat beneath a striped umbrella, the table set with white linen and tiny glasses of sparkling water I didn’t touch. I let them order first—he wanted eggs, she wanted nothing. As always.
Then I leaned forward and said it.
“If something happens to me, I need you to know I love you.”
They both stilled.
“Something’s going to happen?” my mother asked, her voice high, brittle.
“Maybe. I hope not. But I’m not stupid. I’m involved now.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Involved in what?”
I glanced around. My shadow—a Dominion man named Hal—stood two tables over, pretending to text. I lowered my voice anyway. “Something bigger than I ever imagined. Things Granddaddy was part of. Things you never told me.”
Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Sloane?—”
“I know he didn’t die by accident,” I cut in, calm but cold. “I know about Department 77. And I’m done being a pawn in someone else’s game.”
My father leaned in, eyes sharp now. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Don’t I?” I asked. “You both kept me blind. Spoiled me, yes. But also used me. Protected me, maybe—but only enough to keep me ignorant.”
My mother shook her head, her hand trembling as she reached for her water. “We wanted to keep you safe. That’s all.”
“Then tell me the truth,” I said. “Right now. Before it’s too late.”
Daddy’s gaze didn’t waver. “If it was too dangerous to tell you before, what makes you think now is any different?”
I sat back. “Because now I might die without ever knowing what really happened. And I’d rather face that truth head-on than be buried in lies.”
They stared at me, silent. Not cold. Not cruel. Just caught in the tangled web they’d spent decades trying to keep me out of.
The server came with coffee. I thanked her. Looked her in the eyes. She smiled, just faintly.
Across the table, my mother blinked, surprised. “Well, that’s new,” she murmured, reaching for her cream. “You used to act like the help didn’t exist.”
I didn’t riseto it.
“Maybe I just started seeing people,”I said softly.
Momma sniffed, unimpressed. “Be careful. That kind of softness has a cost.”
Daddy glanced at me, then back at her. “Or maybe it’s not softness at all. Maybe it’s strength.”
Momma didn’t answer. Just stirred her coffee like she was trying to disappear into it.
Maybe I wasn’t the girl they’d raised anymore. Maybe I’d finally become the woman I was meant to be.
And I wasn’t afraid. Not of the truth. Not of the fight.
I sipped my coffee, eyes on the street.
The meeting with Marshall was coming. The storm was already overhead. And I was walking straight into it—head high, heels steady, heart steel.
We lingered over coffee, and eventually, Daddy ordered the sweet potato hash with bacon and eggs. I got eggs and toast. Momma still wouldn’t eat, just dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth like she was attending a funeral instead of a breakfast.
When the plates came, I cut a bite and asked quietly, “Did you love him? Byron?”
