He stepped forward, emotion breaking through his stern demeanor. “Why did you leave?”
Rebecca looked down at her hands. “Because I was pregnant.”
He blinked. “That’s exactly why we should’ve stayed together.”
“You don’t understand, Charles. Your mother said I was a stain on your name. That the baby would be disowned. I didn’t want our child raised where love was conditional.”
Eliza gasped. “You left to protect me?”
Tears welled in Rebecca’s eyes. “I left everything. I ran with a suitcase and a heartbeat. And I never regretted choosing you.”
Charles was pale. “My mother told me you ran away with someone else.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I loved you, Charles. But I loved her more.”
Eliza whispered, “So… you really are my father?”
Rebecca met her gaze. “Yes, sweetheart. He is.”
The room spun. Eliza sat heavily on the worn sofa. Everything she thought she knew—about her family, her roots—had shifted.
Charles knelt beside her.
“I missed everything. Your first steps. Birthdays. The piano recitals… I never knew. I want to try to make it right, if you’ll let me.”
Eliza looked at her mother, who nodded, eyes full of silent permission.
Then she looked at Charles, who was no longer a powerful man but a father asking for a chance.
She leaned forward and embraced him.
