The back door opened.
An elderly Black man stepped out, tall despite his age, dressed in a suit that looked like it had never met doubt. Silver hair, calm eyes, and a presence that made the night feel smaller.
Simone recognized him.
She’d seen him inside the gala earlier, watching from a corner with the stillness of someone who didn’t need attention to have power.
He walked toward her slowly.
And then, in front of the handful of curious onlookers who had followed the commotion outside, he bowed.
Not a nod. Not a polite dip.
A full, respectful bow.
Simone’s breath caught.
“Ma’am,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Your real family is here.”
Simone blinked. “I… I’m sorry, what?”
The man straightened and looked at her with something that made her knees almost give out.
Grief. Love. Regret.
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