“They will both be processed.”

“The arraignment will be set for Monday morning.”

“Thank you, Detective,” I said.

I left the precinct and walked out into the bright Miami sun.

The heat hit me like a physical wall, but I felt lighter than I had in years.

I got into my car and turned on the engine.

My phone buzzed in the cup holder.

It was a text message from a number I did not recognize.

I picked it up, expecting another threat from Luke or one of his associates.

Instead, the message was short and simple.

*I am at the diner on 4th Street. Please come. Dad.*

I stared at the screen.

My father had not spoken to me in over a year.

He had spent decades living in silence, retreating to his garage while Linda ran the family with an iron fist.

He had never questioned her, never stood up to her, and never defended me.

I drove the six blocks to the diner.

The diner was old, with red vinyl booths and the smell of grease and maple syrup.