The sound of rain hitting the pavement seemed to fade into a dull hum. Arthur stood frozen on the slick city street, looking down at the worn, faded photograph in his trembling hands. The baby in the picture was looking back at him with innocent eyes—eyes that had now turned red from tears and fury.

«Olivia…» Arthur whispered again, his voice choked with emotions he had buried seven years ago. «That’s impossible. She told me… she told me you were lost before you were even born.»

Arthur felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. The wealthy life he had built, the sleek car with its shattered window, the pristine suit—none of it mattered anymore. The woman he had loved and lost had not only survived, but she had raised his son in the shadows, keeping a truth that broke his heart into a thousand pieces.

«Where is she, son?» Arthur asked, dropping to one knee right onto the wet asphalt, completely ignoring the shards of glass digging into his shoes. «Take me to her. Please.»

The boy hesitated, looking at the man whose face matched his own in the old photograph. Slowly, he reached out his hand, unclenching a small, rusted key.

«She told me never to trust you,» the boy whispered, his rage finally giving way to desperation. «But she won’t last until tomorrow.»