Lucas felt his world tilt. Beside him, Liam went completely still, his face draining of color.
“Your daughter?” Lucas managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
They should’ve guessed. Percival’s eyes were the same color as Hazel’s. They could even see some other subtle facial similarities.
“That’s right. Angeline Bailey was my daughter. Which means…” He paused, taking another sip of his drink. “You two are asking about my dead child.”
“Dead?” Liam stepped forward, his hands clenching into fists. “You’re sure she’s dead?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Percival’s voice turned sharp, pain flickering across his weathered features. “What kind of father do you think I am to not know when my daughter dies?”
Lucas exchanged a glance with his brother. Their research had suggested Angeline and David Bailey were dead, but hearing it confirmed by her own father made it real in a way that twisted something deep in his chest.
“How?” Lucas asked quietly.
