Michael sat in his office, his head bowed and hands clenched tightly on the table in front of him. The room, once a place of strategic planning and hope, now felt suffocating. The revelation about my dad's role in Victor's downfall had planted seeds of doubt, not just in Michael's mind but between him and me.
Across the hall, i stared at the photo Michael had handed me the night before, its edges crumpled slightly from where my grip had tightened. My father's proud smile in the image, seemingly innocent at first glance, now carried a weight i couldn't ignore. How many other secrets had my dad taken to his grave?
I finally pushed myself to my feet and made my way to Michael's office. I found him leaning back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting. "Michael," she began, her voice soft yet firm.
He looked up at me, his gaze conflicted. "Isabella, we need to talk."
