CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
THE THINGS HE TAUGHT HIM
"What do you want?"
The old man's question hung between them.
Calum stood on the doorstep with his head lowered, his hands clasped so tightly that his thumbs had begun rubbing against each other. He had come here with questions. He had rehearsed them during the drive, arranging them in his mind until he thought he could ask them without allowing his anger to interfere.
Why had the man lied about his birth?
Why had he hidden the truth about his adoption?
Why had he spent years making Calum believe that he was a burden, then punished him for being the child he had been given the responsibility to raise?
And why, after everything, had he never told him that his real parents were alive?
Now the man was standing in front of him, and Calum couldn't seem to remember a single question.
Mathew waited beside him.
