I sat rigid over the circular couch, staring at the charismatic, confident gait of the man calling himself Reuben Lincoln. Zinnia was sitting on the same couch I was, a bright curious look in her eyes as she shifted glances between the two men she was with. Reuben, on the other hand, was sitting across me on a leather recliner, his posture relaxed as he leaned against the seat's backrest, his elbows propped up on the recliner's armrests.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Mr. Hudson," he noted.
"That's because I think I just have." Bitterness was in my voice. That I could still be hurt on her behalf as I stared at the father who abandoned her for eight years was a cold reminder that Sofia still meant more to me than I was comfortable to admit. "You're Aiden Claremont."
I was expecting him to deny it, so I was surprised when a smirk showed on his face and he said, "I figured you would recognize me. You were old enough to remember."
