The church seemed to tilt.
“Are you saying…” My voice failed.
Julian looked at the floor.
My father answered with the gentleness of a man breaking his own heart to protect mine.
“I raised you,” he said. “I loved you. I chose you every day. But I am not your biological father.”
A sound escaped me, small and broken.
Julian stepped closer.
“I didn’t know at first,” he said. “When I met you in Europe, I only knew your last name. Then I saw your mother’s eyes in your face. I searched. I found old records. I realized who you were.”
“And you still proposed?” I asked.
His silence was answer enough.
I backed away from him.
“You used me.”
Julian’s eyes filled. “I wanted to get close enough to find what your mother hid.”
