Daddy.
It was a silent scream. The shaking was worse than before, and her fingers fumbled as she attempted to grasp the phone. He hadn’t been Daddy for decades. Kingston at work—which was most of the time. Occasionally Father. But never Daddy.
The glass face of her phone swam before her. She was crying. Dammit! A tear dripped onto the screen. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely punch the emergency dial button.
She couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
Not when Kingston—the only real parent she’d ever known—was about to die.
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