Eventually, I was able to whisper, ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Who’s that?’ Paul repeated.
I took a deep breath, my heart aching.
‘It’s April, our daughter,’ I explained, pointing to some other snaps.
Showing her beaming smile, her gorgeous blonde hair.
Everyone in the country knew her face, how could April’s own daddy have forgotten her?
He’d doted on her. Could she really be wiped from his memory?
It was too cruel.
Paul continued looking at the picture.
He frowned, rubbing his head.
‘Of course, my April,’ Paul said.
I sighed with relief.
‘So where is she? Why hasn’t she visited like Harley and Jazmin?’ he asked, puzzled.
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
I couldn’t lie.
‘She’s dead, Paul, she was killed,’ I whimpered.
His…