Chapter 1 — My Dad

I was four when Clement Renforth married my mother, Philippa.

She passed away not long afterward, or so I believed for twenty-four years — but Clement stayed by my side.

He walked me down the aisle.

He stood beside me at my daughter’s christening.

And even long after I had grown, he would still, now and then, make the apple pancakes I had loved as a little girl.

He was my dad.

Not my stepfather, not in any way that mattered — my dad, the only parent I had ever known, the man who had been the whole of my family.

So when his health began to fail, quickly and cruelly, I hardly left his hospital bedside.

Chapter 2 — Hours Left

The night the doctor told me Clement had only hours left, his hand closed suddenly around my wrist.

“Promise you’ll hear me out before you hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” I said.

His cold fingers tightened against my skin.