Lights dim. Kitchen empty. The scent of her perfume lingered like poison in the air. I sat at the counter, staring at the bottle of prenatal vitamins he left behind.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just… sat there. Until my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
For a second, I didn’t want to answer. I almost didn’t. Then I did.
“…Hello?”
A pause. Then a voice—older, measured, steady.
“Miss Savannah Smith?”
My breath caught.
“I’ve been looking for you. This is Dominic Leone—your father’s personal secretary.”
“…My father?” I whispered. “My father’s dead.”
A pause. Then calmly: “No. Your stepfather, the man who raised you, passed years ago. Your biological father… is alive. Very much so.”
I stood up. Gripping the edge of the counter like it would save me from drowning.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Dominic Leone. Your father’s been searching for you for nearly thirty years. We didn’t know where your mother went after she left. She never used your real last name.”
My hands were trembling.
He kept talking. “He’s been in the hospital these past few weeks. Age is catching up to him. But he’s stable. And… he wants to see you. Badly.”
I sank into the kitchen stool.
“My father… is alive?”