“Why tell me now?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs. The officer sighed. “Because Daniel has been coming to the station voluntarily. He knows what his father did. He’s been trying to gather evidence against him for months. He didn’t ask you to dance because he felt pity for you, miss. He asked you to dance because he has been watching you for years, knowing exactly what his father did to your family, and feeling a guilt so heavy he couldn’t bear to keep it inside anymore.”
The revelation hit me with the force of a physical blow. The way he had approached me, the way he had looked at me during the dance—it wasn’t just kindness; it was atonement. I thought back to the night of the prom, the way his hands had gently held mine, the way he seemed to be holding onto the moment as if it were the only thing grounding him. He hadn’t been dancing with a girl in a wheelchair; he had been dancing with the victim of his family’s darkest sin, trying to offer, in some small way, the comfort he knew he could never truly give.
“He wants to meet with you,” the officer said, closing the folder. “If you’re willing. He has the proof. Documents, emails, recordings of his father admitting to the sabotage of your parents’ car. But it puts him in danger, and he knows it. He wanted you to know the truth before he takes this to the district attorney…
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