Resilience

Three

<Vince>

It had been weeks since I'd last seen my dad. He looked healthier than ever, his tan skin and the absence of stress lines suggesting that retirement and travel had treated him well.

He walked into my office and settled across my desk as I finished up a call. As I hung up, there was a brief pause, during which I held up my hand—the universal signal to stop. Dad slowly sat back down, confusion clouding his face. "What's going on? Is everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Dad and I had always had a complicated relationship, especially since I was the oldest and had witnessed more of his flaws than my younger siblings. Despite working through our rocky past, the unresolved issues from my tumultuous teenage years lingered in the background.

After Mom passed away, Dad spiraled into a whirlwind of work, women, and booze. Despite being financially secure, our home life suffered. At just thirteen, I found myself taking on a fatherly role for my four-year-old brothers. It took years and a sobering dose of reality for Dad to emerge from his grief and recognize its impact on us. I practically raised myself and my brothers, not having time to be a kid myself anymore. Dad and I struggled for dominance in the family hierarchy at times, and I was still better at reigning in my wild brothers, but eventually we found a balance.

The recent information made me feel like we had regressed. Learning about a sister Dad had also abandoned left my head throbbing with barely contained frustration.

Dad cleared his throat, bringing me back to the present. "Is it one of your brothers?" he asked, his concern only adding to my frustration.

"No," I almost fooled myself with my calm voice. Opening a file on my desk, I slid across the most recent photo Xavier had taken.

Dad studied the picture, his expression showing no recognition—either he was an incredible actor or genuinely clueless about his own daughter.

"Who is this?" he asked, puzzled.

Disappointed, I pushed more photos across the desk: his daughter in news articles, at school events, in police reports, with a black eye in hospital photos, in foster care, even as a child with her grandfather.

Recognition finally flickered in his eyes, and he paled. I dropped her birth certificate in front of him, his name boldly listed under 'father.' He stared at it, barely breathing.

"We have a sister. Were you ever going to tell us?" My voice was low, but the rage simmered beneath the surface. Dad didn't look up, instead shuffling through the photos, reports, and surveillance Xavier had provided. So I powered on.

"Last week, I received a call. Do the names Berry Ellington and Eleanor Ellington mean anything to you?"  I already knew the answer, this I was good at, as if I was cross examining a witness. I kept my gaze fixed on him, waiting for his response.

Slowly, he looked up, regret etched on his face. "I wasn't in a good place after your mother. You know that. I was drinking, trying to numb the pain. It's no excuse-Ellington approached me and told me about the girl—my daughter. He knew about my struggles and took advantage of it. He wanted her and had me sign away my rights. At the time, I was a mess, and I didn't fight back."

He paused, his voice weak. "By the time I got my act together and things were stable with you boys, years had passed. I didn't want to disrupt her life."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "It seems her life could have used a bit of disruption from us." Dad's gaze shifted back to the file resting atop the pile. It was a hospital report, and the photograph inside showed a young girl, barely a teenager, with brown eyes that radiated profound sadness. The report detailed multiple bruises across her torso, a cut on her lip, and a fractured arm.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and Xavier's name flashed on the screen. He'd been shadowing Eleanor for the past week, collecting all the information we needed before I confronted Dad or decided to bring her into our lives.

Dad meticulously arranged the documents into a neat stack. "May I have these?" His voice wavered, but he cleared his throat and tried to sound steady. I nodded, but he remained fixated on the photograph of the desolate girl—my sister.

I couldn't blame him. I'd spent hours poring over her file the other night. It's been so long since we've had a woman in our lives who actually matters to me.

"Yes, I have copies," I said softly.

He turned to leave but hesitated, glancing back. "The twins—"

"I haven't mentioned anything to them yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first."

A sigh escaped him. "I appreciate that. I'm sorry you found out the way you did. I'd like to be the one to tell them."

His words hung in the air as he walked away, leaving me to ponder the weight of the family secrets we were about to unravel.

With dad out of my office I opened the message from Xavier, worry and fear flooded me with what his message said. I dialed his number quickly, "Griffin" he answers, but I have no time for pleasantries.

"What do you mean her apartment was broken into last night?