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Aren’t I your daughter too?

“Dad?” My voice broke. I stared at him, my eyes wide, the taste of blood coppery on my tongue.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, towering over me. “What do you think you’re doing, hurting my daughter?”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The word echoed. My daughter. His daughter. As if Athena ...