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That night, when Michael came back upstairs, Elena held her phone with trembling hands.
“Do you remember anything about your father?” she asked quietly.
Elena turned on the video recording. The footage played for only a few seconds before his face turned pale.
He stared at the screen, then at her, his breathing uneven. “That’s not… that’s not real, is it?”
Before Elena could answer, Margaret stepped out of her room. Her voice was sharp, desperate.
“Elena, you don’t understand. I just wanted to protect him.”
“By destroying him?” Elena shouted, her voice breaking.
Michael clutched his head, shaking violently. “Stop it! I don’t want to hear anymore!”
He ran out of the house into the cold, pouring rain.
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