“Did she see the picture?”
I nodded.
My father closed his eyes.
“Then it’s already too late.”
“Too late for what, Dad?”
He took my hand.
“Emily, if I tell you something now, promise me you’ll listen until the very end.”
Just then, another message arrived on my phone from my mother.
“Don’t get into his car. Ask him why his name isn’t on your birth certificate.”
I read it and felt my knees weaken.
My father looked at me and said very calmly:
“Did your mother finally tell you about that night?”
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For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
“You’re not my real father?” I finally asked.
Robert looked out at the ocean.
“I’ve raised you since you were one year old. But no, Emily. I’m not your biological father.”
It felt as though my entire world had collapsed.
