I stared at Claire Pierce as she scribbled notes furiously, my heart racing with each confession spilling from my lips. The weight I'd carried for months was finally lifting—the terrible truth about what I'd done to my father.
"He was the only one who ever truly loved me," I said, my voice breaking. "And I killed him. For her."
Claire's eyes widened. "Dylan, are you confessing to murdering your father?"
I nodded slowly, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Funny, isn't it? I've been sitting in this cell for killing Imogen's unborn child—a child that never existed—when I should've been here for killing my own father."
My hands trembled as memories flooded back. The abandoned hospital. The steel bar. The sickening sound as it pierced through him.
"He told me everything that night," I continued, unable to stop now that I'd started. "About my mother switching the babies. About Imogen being his daughter—my cousin. He was going to tell everyone, expose it all."
