The world tilted.
I stared at the license. At my mother’s signature. A signature right next to it, Albert Saltzinger.”
“Saltzinger.”
“Look at the employee photo.”
I stared at the man who looked like a younger Henri Saltz.
“No,” I whispered. “That’s not—she never said?—”
“The marriage lasted two months.” Marta’s voice was thick with emotion. “I found the divorce filing. Your mother filed on grounds of abandonment. Henri left when she was eight months pregnant. Just disappeared. No longer showed up for work. Your mother had a small inheritance. He cleaned out their joint bank account. Left her with nothing.”
“He left her.” The words felt distant, as if someone else were saying them. “He left us.”
“There’s more.” Marta pulled out another document—an old police report. “Your mother tried to file a missing person report when he first disappeared. But Henri wasn’t missing. He’d moved. New city, name, and life. He’d planned it. Carefully. Deliberately. He wanted to disappear with your mother’s money.”
“Why?” My voice cracked. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. But Tashi—” Marta’s hand covered mine. “He’s avoided all responsibility for you. And then, when you showed up at this hotel, when you became involved with the Kolykos brothers, he tried to destroy you. His own daughter.”
I was stunned.
All those years. All that abandonment. All the times I’d wondered about my father, imagined him as someone who didn’t know I existed, who would have loved me if he’d only known.
He’d known.
He’d known and he’d chosen to leave anyway.
And then he’d tried to weaponize me against the men I loved.
I stood. “Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to him.”
“Maybe you should wait. Talk to the brothers first.”
I was already moving. “This is between me and him.”
The executive offices were three floors up. I took the stairs, letting the physical exertion burn through some of the fury so I could think clearly. By the time I reached Henri’s door—Orion’s old office, the one Henri had stolen—my hands had stopped shaking and my mind was ice-cold.
I didn’t knock.
Henri looked up from his desk, and I watched the color drain from his face as he recognized me.
“Tashi. You shouldn’t be?—”
“Henri Saltz,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Formerly Albert Saltzinger. Married to Catherine George in June 1999. Father to Tashi George, born September 1999. Want to tell me which part of that is wrong?”
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“You knew,” I continued, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “This whole time. The moment I walked into this hotel, you knew who I was. You saw your daughter—the child you abandoned before she was even born—and you said nothing.”
“I didn’t—” His voice was hoarse. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“Like what? You weren’t supposed to see me? I wasn’t supposed to exist? Or I wasn’t supposed to figure out that my father is the man who’s been trying to destroy my life?”
