Page 93 of Icebound Hearts

Making it clear you want no relationship with me, but i need you to know the truth.”

Then, finally, he exhales shakily and says the words that have haunted me for years.

“I never left you.”

A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “You’re sitting here saying that like it’s the truth.”

“It is the truth,” he insists, voice quiet but firm. “I didn’t know, Kat. I swear to you—I didn’t know.” I shake my head, looking away.

“I don’t understand. How could you not know? You were with my mom. You left her.”

His face twists, like my words physically hurt him. “I left

because I thought she wanted me to.”

“She didn’t,” I say sharply. “She never did.” He looks down at his hands, exhaling deeply.

“I know that now.” My throat tightens. Jake—my father—drags a hand through his hair, his frustration evident.

“She never told me, Kat. I swear to you, if I had known, I never would have left. I would have been there. I would have been your father.” His voice cracks, and something in my chest clenches painfully. I want to believe him.

But how do you undo a lifetime of hurt with just words?

“Then why—” I hesitate, my voice barely a whisper. “Why didn’t she tell you?”

He looks away, jaw clenching before he finally mutters, “She did.”

The room spins. I blink, my heart hammering. “What?”

His hands tighten into fists. “She did, Kat. She sent me a letter.”

A thick, suffocating silence falls between us.

A letter.

My mother told him. And he still left?

I knew this was a mistake. I knew meeting him would only— “Kat,” he says urgently, pulling me from my spiral. “I never got

it.” I stare at him, barely breathing.

“What?” He swallows hard. “I never got the letter. I only found out about you a few months ago. Precisely two weeks before your lawsuit, was in every news outlet out there. And the reason I didn’t get it…” He hesitates. “It was burned.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand—”

“My wife at the time,” he says, voice laced with anger and something close to shame. “Your stepmother.” My blood runs cold.

“She found the letter,” he continues. “She was drunk. Con-

fused. I don’t know what the hell was going through her head, but she burned it, Kat. She destroyed it before I ever even knew it existed.” I can’t breathe.

“She didn’t even remember doing it until recently. And the moment I knew—the moment I knew you existed—I dropped everything and went to Russia to find you.”

Tears blur my vision.

No.

No, no, no.

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