I pushed past him into the small room, which contained only a double bed, a desk, and a single window looking out at a brick wall.

“You knew,” I said, turning to face him.

“You knew Alexander was replaced, and you helped them erase my marriage records.”

My father closed the door slowly, his shoulders sagging as if a physical weight had dropped onto them.

He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“I had no choice, Claire,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“Everyone has a choice, Dad. You let them steal my life.”

He walked over to the desk and leaned against it, his hands trembling.

“Senator James Sterling came to me three months ago,” he said, looking down at the carpet.

“He had files, Claire. Documents from thirty years ago when I was the lead accountant at the maritime firm.”

I froze, remembering the vague stories of his early career troubles that he had always brushed off.

“He found the discrepancies,” my father continued, his voice barely audible.

“The funds I transferred to keep our family afloat when your mother was sick.”