The guard came back, holding a thick folder and a cool tablet. He slid the folder through the bars, and William grabbed it, flipping it open with shaky hands.
Photos spilled out like hard punches to the gut.
A newborn baby girl, wrapped in pink, with grey eyes looking up—his eyes, stormy grey like a winter sea. Sarah was holding her, tired but smiling just a little.
More photos followed. Toddler years. School years. Birthdays.
The same gray eyes.
His daughter.
Then the wedding pictures came next, Michael and Sarah at the altar. She wore white, but her face was pale, her eyes red and puffy, and her smile looked forced. There was no happiness; Michael's hand was way too possessive around her waist.
William's eyes filled with tears as he traced a finger over the latest photo: the girl at ten, blowing out birthday candles. Happy. Innocent. Grey eyes just like his stared back at him.
