I was still sitting there, trying not to look nervous, when something on the desk caught my eye.
A photo.
At first I only glanced at it. Then I blinked.
Wait.
I leaned closer.
That… was me.
Except I looked younger in the picture. Maybe a few years younger. Same face, same hair… just smaller.
My brain completely stopped working.
I slowly turned to Mark.
"Mark… look."
He leaned over casually and glanced at the frame.
Then he smiled.
"Cute," he whispered.
My cheeks instantly warmed. "No! That's not what I meant."
I pointed harder at the photo. "That's my picture."
Mark nodded calmly like this was completely normal.
"I know," he replied.
I stared at him. "You knew??"
Before I could demand an explanation, Ethan shot both of us a look.
A very specific look.
The kind that said why are you two whispering like kindergarteners during a serious moment.
Then he looked away again, arms crossed.
And right then—
The door opened.
All three of us looked up at the same time.
Mr. Ronson walked in.
His suit was perfect, not a wrinkle in sight. Blonde hair with neat white streaks, brushed back smoothly. Calm. Controlled. Like the kind of man who owns ten buildings and remembers the price of every one.
But when he saw us, he smiled warmly.
"Good afternoon."
We stood automatically.
"Good afternoon," we replied.
He sat down behind the desk and folded his hands.
"So," he said calmly, studying us, "what brings you here today?"
My heart immediately started beating like it had just discovered caffeine.
This was it.
I spoke first.
"I want to know the truth."
He tilted his head slightly.
"What truth?"
My hand started shaking before I could stop it.
Mark gently placed his hand over mine on the desk.
Steady.
Just that small touch made me breathe again.
I pulled out my phone and showed him the article.
The scandal.
The accusations.
The reports saying he had gone to jail for dealing drugs and corruption and a dozen other terrible things.
He looked at the screen.
Then he sighed softly.
"Oh… this."
He handed the phone back.
I swallowed.
"Then tell me," I said. "What happened? Why does my mom hate you so much? Why—why does everyone say those things about you?"
For a moment he didn't answer.
He just looked at me.
And something in his expression changed.
His eyes softened in a way that made my chest tighten.
The way a father looks at his child.
Then he spoke quietly.
"My daughter… I'm glad you came. I will tell you everything."
I froze.
My daughter.
I glanced quickly at Ethan and Mark.
Mr. Ronson noticed.
"They can stay," he said gently.
I smiled a little.
Good.
Because honestly?
If I had to hear a life-changing secret alone right now…
I might actually faint.
Mr. Ronson leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced together. For a moment he just stared at the desk, like he was pulling memories out of somewhere far away.
Then he began.
"I wasn't a drug dealer," he said quietly. "I was the officer who stopped them."
I blinked.
"You mean… like an undercover officer?"
He nodded. "Something like that. My job was to track the people selling drugs, break their networks, stop their operations. I was one of the best at it."
I glanced at Mark and Ethan.
Well… that was already not what the internet said.
He continued.
"At that time, I was still married to your mother. I kept working, arresting people, shutting down their businesses. Eventually…" he sighed softly, "their leader decided he had enough of me."
My stomach tightened.
"They attacked me."
His eyes drifted somewhere distant, and suddenly the room felt quieter.
I could almost picture it.
A younger version of him in a dark alley. Men surrounding him. Fists hitting. Someone laughing.
"They beat me badly," he said calmly, like he had already accepted the memory. "While I was on the ground… someone slipped a large bag of drugs into my jacket."
My eyes widened.
"I didn't even know it was there."
He exhaled slowly.
"Later that night the police arrived. They were already looking for those drugs. When they searched me…" he paused, "…they found them."
"All the evidence pointed at me."
My chest felt tight.
"They arrested me."
The room fell silent.
Then he looked at me again.
"Your mother came to see me that night."
My hands slowly clenched.
"I told her to wait for me," he said softly. "I told her I would come back."
He looked down.
"But the case took years. Three years."
Three years.
I swallowed.
"After those three years," he continued, "the truth finally came out. I was proven innocent."
My heart lifted a little.
But his next words dropped it again.
"When I came out… I saw your mother."
His voice softened.
"She was raising you and Jack alone."
I froze.
"People mocked her," he continued quietly. "They talked behind her back because of me. Because they thought she was the wife of a criminal."
My chest started hurting.
"So I made a decision."
His voice dropped lower.
"I didn't go back."
"What?" I whispered.
"I left," he said. "I started over somewhere else. I built my business from nothing."
He gave a small tired smile.
"And it succeeded."
That part was obvious.
The giant company building outside kind of gave that away.
"For five years," he continued, "I watched from a distance. I saw your mother build her own company too. She became successful."
Then his smile faded.
"And eventually… she discovered that I was still alive."
I frowned. "But that should've been good."
He shook his head slowly.
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"She hated it."
The words hung in the air.
"I never came back," he finished. "And now… I'm famous."
He sighed deeply.
"That's what happened."
Silence filled the office.
My brain was still trying to process everything.
Drugs.
Prison.
Three years.
Leaving my mom.
Leaving us.
My throat felt tight.
"You…" I started, but my voice cracked.
I didn't even know what question I wanted to ask.
I stared at him, shocked.
Part of me felt angry.
Part of me felt sad.
And part of me… strangely understood.
Finally he spoke again.
"I really want to come back now," he said quietly.
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I nodded slowly.
"You're coming to my contest tomorrow, right?"
His face softened immediately.
He nodded. "Of course."
I gave a small smile.
"Everything will be alright."
At least… I hoped so.
Suddenly Mark leaned slightly toward me and whispered softly,
"I'll be right beside you."
I turned to him and smiled.
Completely unaware that Ethan, sitting on my other side, had gone very quiet.
His jaw was tight.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Jealousy.
But I didn't notice.
I just nodded again toward Mr. Ronson.
And he smiled back at me gently.