I gripped the pager so hard my knuckles ached, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Then it hit me. When I was little, Grandma used to describe Grandpa all the time, the small details of his body that no stranger could know.
It struck me like lightning: proving whether this professor was really my grandfather would be simple.
I walked toward him, offering an apologetic smile.：“Professor, I'm sorry. It looks like I was mistaken.”
“I owe you an apology. I'm sorry for the disruption.”
Seeing that my apology was sincere, no one moved to stop me, and I made it all the way to the podium.
Leon's eyes gleamed with a calm, measured intelligence.：“It's quite all right, miss. If you're in some kind of difficulty, I'd be happy to help.”
I extended my hand, arranging my face into a look of gratitude.：“Thank you, Professor. It's a privilege to meet someone as kind as you.”
His right hand closed around mine. Dry. Warm.
I studied it for a moment, and my stomach dropped.
Grandpa had been born with six fingers. Outside his thumb, a small extra digit forked off, malformed but fully functional.
I examined his hand. There were only five fingers.
But just outside the thumb, a faint, shallow scar traced the skin where something had once been removed.
This single clue still wasn't enough to be absolutely certain he was my grandfather.
“Miss, I need to get back to my lecture.”
I widened my eyes, doing my best impression of an eager student.：“Would it be all right if I sat in for a while?”
His displeasure was obvious, but he kept his composure.：“Fine. Suit yourself.”
I pulled a chair to the edge of the podium and watched him teach, studying every movement.
Besides the sixth finger, Grandma had told me two other things: Grandpa was left-handed, and his legs were naturally uneven in length. You had to look carefully to notice.
If I could confirm those two features, that would be enough.
I held my breath and watched him for ten minutes.
When he picked up the chalk with his left hand, my heart lurched.
I shifted my attention to his feet. His legs didn't appear uneven at all, until I noticed his shoes. The soles were slightly different thicknesses.
His trousers hid it well, but I could see it.
This was my grandfather. The husband Grandma had longed for every single day.
A man who had vanished forty-eight years ago and married someone else.
“Professor Dickerson.”
I shot to my feet before he could speak.
“Professor Dickerson, will you come with me? Come to my hometown and see for yourself.”
“My grandmother is lying in bed waiting for you. She was already fading, but the moment she saw you on television she held on. She's been holding on ever since. Just now her heart stopped.”
Politeness was gone. My words came out fast and raw.
Leon stared at me, disbelief hardening into irritation.
“Miss, if it's money you want, just say so.”
“Here's two thousand dollars. Take it. Use it for your grandmother's medical bills.”
He pulled a roll of cash from his pocket and set it on the desk closest to me, then stepped back, keeping a stranger's distance between us.
I stared at that unfamiliar face.
Tears slid down my cheeks, and my voice came out pleading, desperate.
“Come with me. I'm begging you.”
“Think of it as granting a dying woman her last wish. Is that so much to ask?”
“Otherwise she'll die with her eyes open, and I can't let her leave this world carrying that regret.”
It was as though Grandma and I shared the same pulse.
Every instinct screamed that if I was even a little too late, she would be gone.
Panic flooded through me, beyond anything I could contain, and I lost all control of my composure.
Leon stood at a careful distance, his eyes wary, and the security guards rushed toward me again.
I didn't care. I bolted past them like a woman possessed and seized his wrist before anyone could stop me.
“You're coming with me. Right now.”
