other.
Same jaw.
Same eyes.
The resemblance was undeniable.
“You look like Grandpa,” I said.
Samuel’s mouth tightened.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Melissa pushed past sentiment.
“Where’s Rachel?”
“Inside.”
A woman stepped from the back room.
She was in her early forties.
Dark hair.
A scar across her eyebrow.
When she saw Melissa, she ran to her.
They embraced.
Not like strangers.
Like survivors.
Rachel started crying.
“You came.”
“I promised.”
Samuel looked at my father.
“You shouldn’t have brought them.”
Dad answered, “Vance has the ledger.”
Samuel’s expression changed instantly.
“How?”
“Trust office.”
Rachel stepped back.
“He knows we’re here?”
“Probably.”
Samuel grabbed a duffel bag.
“We leave.”
I blocked him.
“No more running.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve been involved for one night.”
“And you’ve been running for decades.”
His face hardened.
“You know nothing about me.”
“You’re right.”
I stepped closer.
“Whose fault is that?”
The words hit him.
