The room became so quiet that the soft hum of the ship's engines suddenly seemed deafening.
No one interrupted Adrian.
Not Roman.
Not Harold.
Not Lucian.
Not even Theo.
The countdown continued in the corner of every monitor.
46:18:04
46:18:03
46:18:02
Each second reminded them that while they were looking backward…
Susanna Croft was somewhere waiting for them to look forward.
Adrian rested both hands on the desk in front of him.
For several long moments he simply stared at Allison.
His daughter.
Alive.
Bruised.
Exhausted.
Still wearing the wedding ring that had become far more than a political arrangement.
He smiled faintly.
"You look like your mother."
Allison's throat tightened.
"Dad…"
He shook his head.
"No."
His voice was unusually soft.
"If I'm finally telling this story…"
He looked toward Roman.
"…then I'm telling all of it."
Roman nodded once.
"No more half-truths."
Harold lowered his head.
"I should've insisted on that years ago."
