His face showed no anger.
Somehow, that made him even more frightening.
I looked up and whispered,
«Dad…»
My father was standing in the house.
He had followed me from the hospital because the nurse had called him after realizing no one had come to pick me up.
Ethan stared at him.
Margaret quickly got to her feet.
«Who are you, and how dare you come into this house?»
My father looked at Ethan’s raised hand.
Then he looked at me, kneeling on the floor.
When he spoke, his voice was calm.
«Don’t ever lay a hand on my daughter again.»
Ethan tried to pull away.
My father tightened his grip just enough to stop him.
Margaret grabbed her phone.
«I’m calling the police.»
My father finally looked at her.
«Please do.»
Then he slipped his hand inside his coat and placed a small black identification case on the table.
Margaret’s expression changed the moment she saw it.
Ethan stopped struggling.
Neither of them had ever met my father before.
They knew he had served in the military.
But they had no idea what he had done for the past thirty years—or why police officers were already on their way to the house.
