THE CONFESSION
Then Alexander said the one thing Gabriel hadn’t expected.
“You’re right.”
Gabriel blinked. “What?”
Alexander slowly lowered his hands—not in surrender, but in acceptance.
“You’re right,” he repeated. “I killed your father. I didn’t pull the trigger, and I didn’t drive the car… but I killed him. I was arrogant. Greedy. I didn’t care.”
The room fell silent. Wind screamed through the shattered frame.
“I can’t bring him back,” Alexander continued, his voice heavy with shame. “I can’t give you the years you lost. But if you pull that trigger… you don’t just kill me. You destroy yourself. You become the thing you hate.”
Gabriel’s hand shook violently. “You don’t get to talk about him.”
“I know,” Alexander said. “I don’t deserve to. But look at them.” He nodded toward the twins. “Do you want them to see this? To carry it forever the way you carried what happened to you?”
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to Peter and Paul. For the first time, he truly saw them—their fear, their small shaking bodies. He saw himself.
His voice cracked.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” Gabriel sobbed. “I have nothing.”
Alexander answered without hesitation.
“You have a choice.”
