Arianna
“You can take it off now, Arianna.”
My father’s voice moved through the conservatory like it belonged there.
Maybe once it had.
I stood just inside the doorway wearing Helena’s face, staring at the man I had spent years trying to escape. He sat in my mother’s old chair beside the windows with one ankle resting over his knee, a glass of bourbon in his hand, completely relaxed.
Too relaxed.
He had known.
Not guessed.
Known.
I swallowed and let Helena’s face disappear.
My own features returned slowly, along with my auburn hair and the body I had spent years trying to hide from men exactly like him.
My father smiled.
“There she is.”
I hated those words.
I hated the warmth he tried to put behind them even more.
“Where’s the proof?”
His expression barely changed.
“No hel
