Richard Whitmore held his champagne glass high.
“To Claire, the only woman capable of organizing everything except her own life.”
The laughter that followed was louder than before.
Claire stood in the center of the ballroom, soaked from shoulders to boots, holding a white towel against her uniform.
She did not smile.
She did not argue.
She simply looked at her father.
That seemed to irritate Richard more than anger would have.
“Nothing to say?” he asked.
Claire folded the towel carefully.
“No.”
Richard gave the guests a theatrical shrug.
“See?
Always so serious.”
A few people laughed again.
But fewer this time.
Near the bar, an elderly man in a dark suit had stopped smiling entirely.
Claire noticed him.
Silver hair.
Straight posture.
A small American flag pin beside a second insignia she recognized immediately.
He was watching Richard.
Not her.
Claire knew that look.
It was the expression of someone gathering information.
Melissa approached again.
“Claire, please go change.”
“I don't have another uniform here.”
“Then put on anything.”
Claire looked down at herself.
Water was dripping from the hem of her jacket.
“You invited me directly from duty.”
Melissa sighed.
“Why does everything have to become complicated?”
Claire almost answered.
Instead, she looked at Ryan.
Her new brother-in-law finally met her eyes.
There was guilt in his face.
More importantly, there was recognition.
Ryan knew exactly what Richard had done.
He had seen Richard place his foot behind Claire’s ankle when she passed the fountain.
It had not been an accident.
Ryan looked away.
Claire nodded once.
That told her everything.
“I'm going upstairs,” she said.
Richard laughed.
“Running away already?”
Claire turned toward him.
“No.”
Something in her voice silenced the people nearest them.
“I’m drying my uniform.”
She walked out.
Nobody stopped her.
Except the elderly man.
He caught up with her near the ballroom doors.
“Commander Whitmore.”
Claire stopped.
Richard's laughter had disappeared behind her.
“Sir.”
The man extended his hand.
“Admiral Thomas Hale.”
“I know who you are.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I'm not surprised.”
Claire shook his hand.
Hale had retired from active service three years earlier, but people in Washington still listened when he spoke.
Claire had met him once.
Briefly.
On a day Richard Whitmore knew nothing about.
Hale glanced toward the ballroom.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
Claire almost smiled.
“I'll survive a fountain.”
“I wasn't referring to the fountain.”
Claire said nothing.
Hale lowered his voice.
“You still haven't told them.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because tonight belongs to my sister.”
Hale looked through the open doors.
Richard was already telling another story.
Melissa laughed beside him.
Ryan drank too quickly.
Hale's jaw tightened.
“Apparently your family doesn't share your concern about whose night this is.”
Claire folded the wet towel over one arm.
“It doesn't matter.”
Hale studied her.
“Tomorrow it will.”
Claire's eyes narrowed.
“What happens tomorrow?”
He looked almost amused.
“You really haven't checked your phone?”
“My phone is in my car.”
“Then perhaps you should.”
Before she could question him, Hale walked back into the ballroom.
Claire watched him go.
Then continued upstairs.
The Halston Grand had converted several second-floor suites into private rooms for the wedding party.
Claire found hers at the end of the corridor.
Her overnight bag sat untouched beside the bed.
She peeled the wet ceremonial jacket from her shoulders and hung it near the bathroom heater.
Underneath, her white shirt clung to her skin.
She stared into the mirror.
For the first time that evening, nobody could see her.
Her hands began to shake.
Claire gripped the marble counter.
Not because she had fallen.
Not because four hundred people had laughed.
Because some part of her had still hoped her mother would speak.
Just once.
Elaine had spent Claire's entire childhood explaining Richard.
Your father doesn't mean it.
Your father is under pressure.
Your father worries about you.
Your father doesn't know how to show affection.
Claire had spent twenty years translating cruelty into love because her mother kept insisting there was a translation.
Tonight Elaine had watched Richard humiliate her.
And looked away.
Claire closed her eyes.
Someone knocked.
She straightened instantly.
“Come in.”
Ryan entered.
Claire frowned.
“You should be downstairs.”
“I know.”
He closed the door behind him.
“Melissa thinks I'm talking to the photographer.”
“Then talk to the photographer.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Your father tripped you.”
She stared at him.
“Yes.”
“I saw it.”
“I assumed someone did.”
“I should've said something.”
“Yes.”
The blunt answer surprised him.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair.
“I didn't want to ruin the wedding.”
Claire laughed once.
“So everyone keeps saying.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Ryan looked toward the hallway.
“Richard has influence over my next assignment.”
There it was.
Claire leaned against the desk.
“How?”
“Congressman Whitmore sits on the defense appropriations subcommittee.”
“My father reminds everyone of that every fifteen minutes.”
“He called someone for me.”
“And?”
“I might get moved to the Pentagon.”
Claire understood.
“You didn't want to upset him.”
Ryan lowered his voice.
“I've worked ten years for this.”
“And Melissa?”
“What about her?”
“Does she know her father is interfering with your career?”
Ryan hesitated.
Answer enough.
Claire shook her head.
“You married into exactly what you wanted.”
His expression hardened.
“That isn't fair.”
“Neither was the fountain.”
Ryan inhaled sharply.
Before either could continue, shouting erupted downstairs.
They both turned.
A moment later someone ran through the corridor.
Then another.
Ryan opened the door.
“What happened?”
A hotel employee rushed past.
“Sir, there's some kind of issue in the ballroom.”
Claire exchanged a look with Ryan.
They went downstairs.
The mood had changed completely.
Nobody was laughing.
Dozens of guests were staring at a large projection screen behind the orchestra.
It had previously shown photographs of Melissa and Ryan.
Now it displayed a news broadcast.
Claire stopped on the final stair.
A reporter stood outside the Pentagon.
The headline beneath her filled the screen.
WHITE HOUSE ANNOUNCES PRESIDENTIAL NOMINEE FOR JOINT CYBER DEFENSE COMMAND
Claire closed her eyes.
So that was what Hale meant.
The reporter continued.
“Sources confirm that Commander Claire Whitmore has been selected by the President for nomination as the first director of the newly consolidated Joint Cyber Defense Operations Command, pending Senate confirmation—”
Someone dropped a glass.
Melissa slowly turned.
Richard's face had become completely blank.
On the screen appeared Claire's official photograph.
Dry.
Composed.
Decorations aligned perfectly across her uniform.
The reporter listed operations Claire had led.
Most had never appeared publicly before.
A major breach intercepted overseas.
A classified infrastructure defense initiative.
An international task force.
Three commendations.
One operation Richard believed Claire had spent overseas “fixing computers for the Navy.”
Four hundred guests stared at the soaked woman standing on the staircase.
Claire wished she could disappear.
Richard recovered first.
He laughed.
Loudly.
“Well!”
His voice carried across the room.
“Apparently my daughter has been keeping secrets.”
People began approaching Claire.
Hands extended.
Congratulations.
Questions.
Compliments.
The same relatives who had laughed fifteen minutes earlier suddenly remembered how proud they were of her.
“Claire!
We always knew you were destined for something remarkable.”
“You never told us!”
“Your father must be so proud.”
Claire looked toward Richard.
His smile had returned.
This one was different.
Calculated.
He climbed onto the small stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Claire's stomach tightened.
Richard opened his arms.
“I suppose we've discovered the real reason my daughter arrived alone tonight.
She was waiting for Washington to make an entrance for her.”
Polite laughter.
He smiled directly at Claire.
“But as her father, I can't pretend I'm surprised.”
Claire stared at him.
“I've always encouraged Claire's ambitions.”
Elaine looked up sharply.
Richard continued.
“When she was a child, I taught her discipline.
Competition.
Resilience.”
Claire's mouth almost fell open.
Melissa watched silently.
Richard raised his glass again.
“And if I've been hard on her occasionally, perhaps now everyone understands why.”
Hale stood near the back of the room.
His expression could have frozen fire.
Claire began walking toward the stage.
Richard smiled wider, apparently assuming she intended to embrace him.
She passed him.
And took the microphone.
“Thank you.”
The ballroom quieted.
Claire looked over the crowd.
“I learned about the nomination two weeks ago.”
Richard's smile faltered.
“I was asked not to discuss it publicly until the announcement.”
She glanced at Melissa.
“I came tonight because my sister asked me to attend her wedding.”
Melissa lowered her eyes.
“That is the only reason I'm here.”
Claire returned the microphone.
No dramatic speech.
No revenge.
No accusation.
Somehow that made Richard look smaller.
He grabbed her wrist before she stepped away.
“You're embarrassing me.”
Claire looked down at his hand.
“Let go.”
Richard smiled for the audience.
“Don't make a scene.”
Claire's voice remained quiet.
“You already made one.”
He released her.
Admiral Hale appeared beside the stage.
“Commander.”
“Sir.”
“May I borrow you?”
Richard instantly extended his hand.
“Admiral Hale.
Richard Whitmore.
Claire's father.”
“I know.”
Hale did not take his hand.
Richard's smile tightened.
“I've followed your career.”
“How unfortunate.”
Claire looked away before her face betrayed her.
Hale turned to her.
“There's someone who wants to meet you.”
“Tonight?”
“Especially tonight.”
He led Claire toward a private reception room.
Richard started following.
Hale stopped.
“This conversation is restricted.”
Richard stared.
“I'm her father.”
“That is not a security clearance.”
The door closed in his face.
Claire allowed herself one small smile.
Inside waited a woman in her early sixties.
Gray suit.
No jewelry except a wedding band.
She rose.
“Commander Whitmore.”
Claire recognized her immediately.
Deputy Secretary of Defense Evelyn Shaw.
“Ma'am.”
Shaw shook her hand.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“I apologize for the announcement leaking into your sister's reception.”
Claire glanced toward the ballroom.
“I don't think the leak caused the problem.”
Shaw smiled faintly.
“No.
Admiral Hale filled me in.”
Claire shot Hale a look.
He ignored it.
Shaw opened a folder.
“Your nomination will create enemies.”
Claire's attention sharpened.
“Professionally?”
“Professionally.
Politically.
Possibly personally.”
“What happened?”
Shaw exchanged a look with Hale.
“Three hours ago, someone attempted to access restricted personnel files related to your nomination.”
Claire's amusement disappeared.
“From where?”
“A congressional network.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Which office?”
Shaw closed the folder.
“Your father's.”
Claire stared at her.
“That doesn't mean he did it.”
“No.”
“Who has access?”
“That is what we're investigating.”
Claire thought of Richard.
His political staff.
Assistants.
Consultants.
People constantly passing through his Arlington office.
“Was anything taken?”
“We don't know.”
Hale spoke.
“The attempt occurred using credentials belonging to your father's chief of staff.”
Claire knew him.
Daniel Cross.
Richard's closest political adviser for twelve years.
Almost family.
“Where is Cross?”
“Missing,” Shaw said.
Claire went still.
“Since when?”
“Approximately six hours.”
The wedding suddenly felt very far away.
Shaw stepped closer.
“Commander, there is another reason we're here.”
She removed a photograph from the folder.
Claire looked at it.
A man leaving a parking garage.
His face was partly obscured.
“What am I looking at?”
“He met Daniel Cross yesterday.”
“Who is he?”
“We hoped you could tell us.”
Claire studied the image.
Then her blood ran cold.
She knew the man.
Not from work.
From childhood.
“That's impossible.”
Hale watched her.
“Who is he?”
Claire looked up.
“My uncle.”
Shaw frowned.
“Your mother's brother?”
Claire shook her head.
“My father's.”
“Name?”
“Jonathan Whitmore.”
Shaw looked at Hale.
Hale looked at Claire.
“What?”
Claire's voice became quieter.
“Jonathan Whitmore died eighteen years ago.”
Neither official spoke.
The reception room door suddenly opened.
Richard stormed in.
“This is outrageous.”
Hale turned.
“How did you get past security?”
“It's my daughter's wedding.”
“Wrong daughter,” Claire said.
Richard ignored her.
His eyes fell on the photograph.
And all color left his face.
Claire saw it.
So did Hale.
Richard stepped backward.
“Where did you get that?”
Shaw's tone sharpened.
“You recognize him?”
“No.”
“You just asked where we got his photograph.”
“I thought—”
“Dad.”
Claire had rarely called him that as an adult.
Richard looked at her.
“That’s Uncle Jonathan.”
“No.”
“You told us he drowned.”
“He did.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Richard's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
The ballroom music began again beyond the walls, uncertain and soft.
Claire stepped closer.
“What happened to Jonathan?”
Richard stared at her for several seconds.
Then he locked the reception room door.
Hale's expression changed.
Richard lowered his voice.
“My brother didn't drown.”
Claire felt something settle coldly in her stomach.
Elaine appeared outside the glass panel.
Richard saw her.
“Don't let her in.”
Claire stared at him.
“My mother?”
“Especially your mother.”
That was when Claire understood this was bigger than her nomination.
“What happened eighteen years ago?”
Richard rubbed both hands across his face.
The arrogant congressman vanished.
For the first time in Claire's life, her father looked genuinely frightened.
“Jonathan worked for military intelligence.”
Claire frowned.
“You said he was an investment banker.”
“That was his cover.”
Hale stepped forward.
“What agency?”
Richard looked at him.
“Defense Intelligence.”
Shaw's face hardened.
“What did he do?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Try.”
Richard looked at Claire.
“Jonathan discovered someone inside the defense establishment was selling classified information.”
Claire's mind accelerated.
“To whom?”
“He never told me.”
“Why involve you?”
“He needed someone outside intelligence circles to hold evidence.”
Claire looked at Richard differently.
“You?”
“I was an attorney then.”
“What evidence?”
Richard swallowed.
“A list.”
Shaw asked, “Of what?”
“Names.”
Hale's voice dropped.
“Agents?”
Richard shook his head.
“Politicians.”
The silence became heavy.
“Military officers.
Contractors.
Lobbyists.
People being paid through shell companies.”
Claire glanced at Hale.
“This happened eighteen years ago?”
Richard nodded.
“What happened to the list?”
“I destroyed it.”
A knock struck the door.
Elaine stood outside.
Richard looked terrified.
Claire noticed.
Not irritated.
Not angry.
Terrified.
“Why can't Mom hear this?”
Richard whispered, “Because she gave Jonathan away.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Richard stared through the glass at his wife.
“Your mother found the files.”
Claire looked at Elaine.
The woman outside seemed fragile.
Concerned.
Almost frightened.
Exactly as Claire had seen her all her life.
“She reported him?”
Richard shook his head.
“She reported him to the people he was investigating.”
Claire's stomach turned.
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
Shaw approached the glass.
Elaine smiled uncertainly at her.
Richard whispered, “Three days later Jonathan disappeared.”
“And you told everyone he drowned.”
“I was protecting you and Melissa.”
Claire stared at her father.
Eighteen years.
Her entire family history shifted beneath her.
“Does Mom know Jonathan is alive?”
“I don't know.”
“Then open the door.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
Richard grabbed her arm.
“Claire, listen to me for once.”
She pulled free.
“No.
You listen to me.”
Years of swallowed words rose in her throat.
“You humiliated me in front of four hundred people because you wanted to feel powerful.”
Richard flinched.
“You spent my entire childhood making Melissa and me compete for scraps of your approval.”
His face hardened.
“Now suddenly I'm supposed to trust you because you're frightened?”
“I was trying to keep you out of this.”
“You pushed me into a fountain.”
“I needed you to leave.”
Claire froze.
Hale's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Richard looked ashamed.
“I knew someone was watching the wedding.”
Claire stared.
“You deliberately humiliated me because you wanted me to leave?”
“I thought you'd go home.”
“Why not tell me there was danger?”
“Because you never leave when I tell you something is dangerous.”
Despite everything, Hale almost smiled.
Claire didn't.
“Who was watching?”
Richard looked toward Elaine again.
“I don't know.”
The door handle moved.
Locked.
Elaine knocked.
“Richard?”
Everyone fell silent.
Her voice remained gentle.
“What are you doing in there?”
Richard did not answer.
“Claire?”
Claire walked toward the door.
Richard blocked her.
“Don't.”
She lowered her voice.
“Move.”
“Please.”
It was the first time Claire could remember her father using that word with her.
Then Elaine knocked again.
Three times.
Slowly.
Richard's face changed.
Claire saw recognition.
“What?”
He backed away from the door.
“That signal.”
“What signal?”
Richard looked at Shaw.
“Jonathan used it.”
Claire turned toward the glass.
Elaine was no longer there.
The corridor outside was empty.
Hale opened the door.
Security guards rushed through the hallway.
No Elaine.
Claire ran toward the ballroom.
“Mom!”
Guests stared.
Melissa turned near the dance floor.
“What happened?”
“Where's Mom?”
Melissa frowned.
“She was just with Dad.”
“No, she wasn't.”
“Yes.
I saw her leave with him ten minutes ago.”
Claire stopped.
Richard emerged behind her.
“I've been in that room.”
Melissa looked confused.
“No.
Dad, you came over to Mom, whispered something, and you both left through the service corridor.”
Everyone stared at Richard.
Claire felt cold.
“How long ago?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
Claire looked toward the service corridor.
Hale was already speaking into his phone.
Hotel security sealed the exits.
Claire ran.
The service corridor opened behind the kitchens.
One door stood ajar.
Outside waited an empty loading area.
Rain glittered beneath yellow lights.
A black sedan accelerated toward the road.
Claire sprinted after it.
Too far.
Its rear lights vanished beyond the corner.
On the wet pavement lay Elaine's silver shoe.
Claire picked it up.
Something was stuffed inside.
A folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
One handwritten sentence.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHO CLAIRE WHITMORE REALLY IS.
Claire stared.
Richard arrived behind her.
He saw the note.
And stopped.
“Dad.”
He said nothing.
Claire turned.
“What does this mean?”
Richard looked older than he had twenty minutes earlier.
“You don't want to know.”
“I do.”
“Claire—”
“Who am I?”
His eyes filled with something she had never expected to see.
Grief.
“You aren't my biological daughter.”
The rain seemed to disappear.
Melissa had followed them outside.
She heard every word.
“What?” she whispered.
Claire could barely speak.
“Then whose daughter am I?”
Richard looked toward the road where the sedan had vanished.
“I don't know.”
Melissa laughed nervously.
“That makes no sense.”
Richard turned toward his younger daughter.
“I know.”
“You raised her.”
“Yes.”
“You were married to Mom when Claire was born.”
“Yes.”
Claire's mind locked onto one detail.
“Did Mom know?”
Richard's silence answered.
Claire unfolded the note again.
“Jonathan knew.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why he came back?”
“I don't know.”
Hale stepped outside.
“We found surveillance footage.”
He showed Claire his phone.
Video from the loading area.
Elaine walked voluntarily toward the black sedan.
Nobody forced her.
A man stepped from the passenger side.
Jonathan.
Older.
Alive.
Elaine embraced him.
Claire stared at the screen.
“That isn't an abduction.”
“No,” Hale said.
“They left together.”
Another figure entered the frame from behind the sedan.
A woman.
Claire couldn't see her face.
Richard did.
He dropped Claire's wet uniform jacket onto the pavement.
“No.”
Claire grabbed his arm.
“Who is she?”
Richard stared at the frozen image.
“The woman Jonathan was protecting eighteen years ago.”
“Who?”
Richard looked at Claire.
Then at the woman on the screen.
“Your mother.”
Melissa shook her head.
“Mom just got into the car.”
Richard's voice cracked.
“I don't mean Elaine.”
Claire's heartbeat seemed to stop.
Hale enlarged the image.
The woman's face sharpened.
Claire stared.
Same gray-blue eyes.
Same jaw.
Same unusual scar beneath the left eyebrow.
Claire had carried that scar since infancy.
Richard whispered the name like something he had spent eighteen years trying to forget.
“Rebecca Vale.”
Hale went still.
Shaw arrived behind them.
“Did you say Rebecca Vale?”
Claire turned.
“You know her?”
Shaw looked at the photograph.
Her face became grave.
“Everyone in defense intelligence knows that name.”
Claire waited.
“Why?”
“Rebecca Vale was one of the most important counterintelligence officers this country ever had.”
Claire stared at the retreating road.
“Was?”
Shaw looked at her.
“She was declared dead eighteen years ago.”
The same year Jonathan disappeared.
Claire's phone began ringing inside the hotel.
A security officer ran toward them holding it.
“Commander!”
Claire took the phone.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Whitmore.”
For several seconds, silence.
Then a woman's voice.
“Claire.”
Claire's entire body went rigid.
She had never heard the voice before.
Yet something about it felt frighteningly familiar.
“Who is this?”
“You already know.”
Claire looked at Richard.
His face confirmed it.
Rebecca.
Her biological mother.
“Where is Elaine?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Then why are you calling?”
A pause.
“Because Richard lied about one thing.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
Rebecca's voice became quieter.
“Jonathan did not return because of the list.”
“Then why?”
“He came back because your appointment activated something we buried eighteen years ago.”
Claire tightened her grip on the phone.
“What did it activate?”
A faint sound came through the line.
Like another person breathing nearby.
Then Rebecca spoke.
“A protocol attached to your identity.”
“My identity?”
“You were never supposed to enter Joint Cyber Defense.”
Claire looked toward Hale and Shaw.
“What happens if I do?”
Rebecca's answer came immediately.
“They'll know you're alive.”
“Who?”
The line crackled.
Rebecca whispered one final sentence.
“The people your real father betrayed.”
The call ended.
Claire stared at the dark phone.
Richard closed his eyes.
Melissa looked between them.
“Real father?”
Claire slowly turned toward Richard.
“You said you didn't know who my biological father was.”
He couldn't meet her eyes.
That was the moment Claire understood.
Another lie.
“Who is he?”
Richard's voice was almost inaudible.
“Claire…”
“Who?”
Hale received a message on his phone.
He looked at it.
Then at Claire.
His expression changed completely.
“What?”
Claire demanded.
Hale handed her the screen.
A classified personnel photograph stared back at her.
The same eyes.
The same scar beneath the eyebrow.
The name underneath made Richard stagger backward.
GENERAL NATHANIEL VALE.
Claire knew the name.
Every officer did.
Nathaniel Vale had commanded one of the most secretive intelligence operations of the early twenty-first century.
He had also been accused of betraying the United States.
And eighteen years earlier, after a global manhunt, he had supposedly died in an explosion overseas.
Claire looked at Hale.
“You're telling me Nathaniel Vale was my father?”
Hale said nothing.
He didn't need to.
Then his phone vibrated again.
Another classified alert.
His face drained of color.
“What now?”
Claire asked.
Hale slowly raised his eyes.
“The biometric system just flagged someone entering the United States through Dulles International Airport.”
Claire already knew before he showed her.
The photograph displayed an older man walking through a private aviation terminal less than twenty miles away.
A man with Claire's eyes.
A man officially dead for eighteen years.
Nathaniel Vale.
Alive.
And beneath the image was a security notification that made Claire's blood run cold.
DESTINATION IDENTIFIED:
HALSTON GRAND HOTEL — ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA.
Claire looked back toward the ballroom filled with hundreds of guests.
Then toward Melissa.
Toward Richard.
Toward the service entrance Elaine had disappeared through.
A hotel employee suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Commander Whitmore?”
Claire turned.
The young man looked terrified.
“There’s a gentleman in the lobby asking for you.”
Nobody moved.
Claire's hand instinctively reached toward the sidearm she was not carrying.
“What gentleman?”
The employee swallowed.
“He wouldn't give me his name.”
“Then why do you think he's here for me?”
“Because he said to tell you something.”
Claire felt every eye turn toward her.
“What?”
The employee hesitated.
“He said, ‘Tell my daughter she shouldn't have worn the navy uniform tonight.’”
Richard whispered, “Oh, God.”
Then every light in the hotel went out.
The ballroom disappeared into darkness.
Guests screamed.
Emergency lights flashed red along the walls.
Claire turned toward the lobby.
A tall silhouette stood at the far end of the corridor.
Motionless.
Watching her.
Then a man's voice carried through the darkness.
“Hello, Claire.”
Her father had finally come home.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
Source: Stories of Destiny · Huyen Huyen
