They had beaten my daughter bloody.
I grabbed my phone.
Sofia tried to stop me.
“Mom, Dad hasn’t spoken to us in years.”
I looked at her swollen face.
“You are still his daughter.”
Then I called the number I had not used in almost ten years.
Alexander answered with a rough, sleepy voice.
“Elena?”
I took one breath.
“Your daughter was almost killed on her wedding night.”
There was silence.
Then his voice changed.
“Send me the address. I’m coming.”
I hung up and held Sofia while she shook in my arms. For the first time since she arrived, I saw something flicker in her eyes.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But a spark.
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
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