Her mouth dropped open in shock. Jeon… was her father?

If someone had told her this, she would have laughed it off, but seeing it with her own eyes had left her utterly speechless. She couldn’t reconcile the image of the cold, unfeeling man she knew with the role of a father. This was Jeon, the man who seemed incapable of showing any emotion—who barely seemed human, much less like someone who would raise a child.

Her mouth hung open, and she struggled to pull her thoughts together. The girl looked around eight, and Jeon was in his thirties, but it wasn’t about that, it was because it was him. Questions raced through her mind, each one without an answer. 

Was he married or not?

Did he have a family somewhere?

She was so lost until the girl, Inez, stopped in front of Jeon. The little girl, with high-heeled sneakers that clicked against the stable floor, looked up at him, her small face brave and expectant as she craned her neck to meet his gaze. She barely reached his waist, but her posture held a surprising amount of confidence.