My heart pounded harder.
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
The name seemed to echo between us.
I couldn’t speak.
Samuel continued.
“Your father confronted him.”
“And then?”
“Your father was warned to stay quiet.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
“And my mother?”
“She supported him.”
“What happened?”
Samuel’s eyes filled with tears.
“They were driving home one night when their brakes failed.”
I covered my mouth.
“Grandpa…”
“I spent years believing Daniel ordered it.”
“Believing?”
“I never had enough proof.”
“And Ethan?”
Samuel looked away.
“Ethan was born years later.”
“So what does he have to do with it?”
“That is what I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“But you said he was Daniel’s son.”
“I believe he is.”
“You believe?”
Samuel nodded.
“Daniel had a son. His name was Ethan.”
My knees felt weak.
“The Ethan I knew?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“I said Daniel had a son named Ethan.”
He leaned forward.
“But Daniel’s family disappeared after he did. Records were sealed. Names were changed. People moved.”
I felt sick.
“Then how did you recognize him?”
“I didn’t.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I didn’t recognize Ethan when you first told me his name.”
“Then why are you so afraid?”
Samuel looked at the baby.
“Because of her eyes.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.
It was creased and yellow with age.
He handed it to me.
I stared at the picture.
Two young men stood beside a vintage car.
One was unmistakably my grandfather.
The other had dark hair and a sharp jaw.
And his eyes—
One blue.
One brown.
I couldn’t breathe.
“That was Daniel,” Samuel said.
My fingers trembled.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That can’t be.”
“Look at his face.”
I did.
Then I looked at my daughter.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Not just the eyes.
