"Axel?"
Axel was already walking towards the black box with a darkened expression. He pulled a small knife from his pocket. He cut the ribbon and lifted the lid with the tip of the blade, careful not to touch it directly.
Inside, resting on a bed of red tissue paper, was a framed photograph.
Axel froze and felt his body go completely stiff.
I leaned forward to look.
It was an old photo, a bit faded with time. It showed a garden party. In the middle was a man with a charming smile, holding a glass of champagne. Next to him was a younger version of me, about ten years old, wearing a white dress and looking up at him in admiration.
That was when I thought he was just my adoptive father, not the reason I was orphaned in the first place.
And tucked into the corner of the frame was a small note card.
Axel picked it up with his gloved hand. He read it, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
