Damon's POV
The technician placed the report on the desk between us. His voice was calm. "The probability of a biological father-daughter relationship is ninety-nine point nine percent."
Everything around me went silent. For several long seconds, I couldn't move, think, or even breathe.
Our pup, she's our pup, Rhein whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Heat burned behind my eyes. Elona was my daughter.
Then the grief gave way to anger, not at Elona, never at her, but at the years stolen from us, at the lie I had been forced to believe, at every birthday I had missed, every smile I hadn't seen, every tear I hadn't wiped away.
I tightened my grip on the report until the paper crumpled in my hand. Why, Aria? Why did you keep Elona's real identity a secret from me?
The question that
