had known each other.
Then a nurse entered the room.
“Doctor, there’s a man downstairs asking to see these patients.”
“Who is he?” Dr. Harrison asked.
“He claims he’s their biological father.”
I almost laughed.
“My father died when I was seven.”
Emily turned toward me.
“So did mine.”
We stared at each other.
The coincidence suddenly felt disturbing.
Then the nurse revealed the visitor’s name.
“Daniel.”
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent a message.
“Don’t trust the man downstairs. Your real father died twenty-five years ago.”
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