• Natasha stood with her mouth agape for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a singly word escaped her lips. "Dad?" Her brain, which only a second ago was in hyper drive to find an escape, was now functioning about as well as a mix of caramel and molasses.

    The man in the doorway wore a suit and kept his blond hair neat and in place. He stared at her in silence, his hand still resting on the doorknob.

    "Father, why aren't you saying anything? Dad? Don't you recognize me? I'm Natasha! Your daughter!"

    "Well, well, well, my prisoner has a name." Her father tapped his fancy leather shoe on the concrete floor. "But, as far as I know, I'm not your father."

    That's impossible! Natasha thought to herself. You're my dad! But why lie....?