Ella
Logan took a deep breath, as if he were gathering the strength to lift a colossal weight.
He glanced at me, his eyes carrying a quiet plea for understanding. There was nothing that I could do; we both knew that this moment was bound to come at one point or another, and in the most Edrick way possible, my father had decided that that moment would be right now.
Something told me that my father already knew. In fact, I was almost certain of it. This was a test of Logan’s trustworthiness, his transparency about his life.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan met my father’s stare. “My father,” he began, his voice low and filled with an unmistakable sense of gravity, “is a mafia boss in our city.”
My mom’s hand instantly shot up to her chest as she gasped, a look of disbel
