The silence in the cramped cottage was evident enough to choke on. The revelation – Ember Hall was my daughter – hung between Dallas and Hattie. Dallas felt his world tilt. He hadn't just betrayed Lydia; he'd betrayed his own blood. Hattie's blood.
Hattie stood rigid, the fury radiating from her small frame momentarily frozen by the depth of her own grief. Tears finally spilled over, tracing paths through the lines on her cheeks, but they did nothing to soften the terrible rage in her eyes. She turned abruptly, her movements stiff, and walked deeper into the shadowed cottage without a word.
Dallas, reeling, hesitated on the threshold. But leaving wasn't an option. He stepped inside, closing the heavy oak door softly behind him, shutting out the pale dawn light.
