Klara slowly turned around to face Reagan, suspicion written all over her face, "What did you say, Reagan?" She asked, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Shota's existence wasn't the only secret my father shared," he admitted, his voice laced with a sincerity that did little to ease the knot of distrust tightening in Klara's gut. He raised his hands, palms facing outwards, in a gesture of attempted appeasement as a strand of his blonde hair brushed against his cheek. "He revealed quite a lot before he passed."
Klara didn't know what to believe anymore. She was conflicted. Was she to keep trusting Reagan?
"And why would he do that?" She countered, her voice laced with a sharp edge. Her gaze narrowed to slits, dissecting his face as she searched for any telltale sign of deception.
"I a
