A few days later, one of her associates contacted me with news that couldn’t wait. Richard Caldwell had learned I existed.

That night I noticed an unfamiliar vehicle parked outside for far too long. The danger was real, and it was here.

I didn’t call Eleanor. I called my father.

He was there within the hour. On the drive, I asked him whether he’d ever regretted raising me, knowing what he knew.

He answered without a pause. He said I was his son because he chose me — every single day.

That’s what gave me the strength to stop running.