Almost.
Ruslan’s voice sliced through the air before we reached the threshold.
“Should I kill your father?”
Every muscle in my body froze.
I turned slowly.
He was still seated. Leaning forward now. Elbows resting on his knees. Hands clasped loosely together.
But his eyes were locked onto mine.
“I need your consent.”
The words were deliberate. Controlled. Dangerous.
My father.
No.
Not my father. Not anymore.
He stopped being my father when he let me believe he was dead and left me to rot in a system designed to destroy me.
He stopped deserving that title long ago.
I lifted my hands.
My fingers moved slowly.
He is no longer my father.
I made sure the gesture was clear—even if Ruslan’s sign language wasn’t perfect.
I signed, “Do whatever you want with him.”
Ethan translated automatically.
I continued.
“Kill Harris. Kill the man who calls himself my father.”
My chest tightened as memories collided—his absence, his betrayal, his silence while I suffered.
“But remember this.”
I stepped forward one small pace so Ruslan could see my face clearly.
“None of it erases what you caused.”
The room was silent. “None of it brings back my baby.”
My hand instinctively moved to my abdomen.
The motion was subconscious.
Protective. A phantom instinct. “None of it stops the daily bleeding.”
