At the funeral, I still stood beside the grave, staring blankly at the tombstone of my only child. In the next second, I searched for a phone number and called Tristan. It was thirteen times in a row of calls, yet none of them went through.
I kept on searching on the phone, until I saw a photo of Tristan holding a newborn baby with a bright smile. It had the caption.
[Others laugh at you for being a baby born without father, but you have a man who is more reliable than your father.]
There was also Tristan's comment under the caption.
[This post is my witness. I, Tristan, swear that I will protect Xena Swayn Writhe's happiness and safety for the rest of her life.]
His social account, which had been silent for more than 20 years, sent out its first post.
[I take Xena Swayn Writhe as my own daughter and she will be my next heir.]
My knuckles turned white holding the phone. The relatives and friends in the funeral began to whisper. "I heard that Mr. Goyle doted on his sister, but I didn't expect him to leave all his property to his niece. He even took her as his own daughter."