stood quietly by her father’s side, her small fingers finding his rough, calloused hands. The room seemed to hold its breath; even the guards, so accustomed to tense farewells, found themselves caught in the gravity of the moment.
Emily leaned in close to Daniel, her lips brushing against his ear. Her whisper was so soft that Daniel had to strain to catch the words. But when they came, they struck with the force of a thunderclap.
“Daddy,” she said, “I know it wasn’t you. I know who really did it.”
