in my bag—cheap and basic, something the reentry program had provided. It could still play videos.
I plugged in the flash drive using the adapter Harold had included in the envelope without me noticing.
A folder popped up.
One video file.
Titled:
“Eli — The Truth.”
My finger hovered over it.
Then I pressed play.
THE VIDEO MESSAGE
My father’s face filled the screen.
He looked thinner than I remembered. Pale. The kind of pale that isn’t just sickness—it’s time running out.
But his eyes were steady.
“Eli,” he said softly. “
