The gap in the records was massive. There was nothing from his life in Europe. No military service files, no school records, no employment history. Everything before that boat ride in Lisbon was a total blank. William realized the timing was the key.
His father had moved through the cracks of history. He had arrived legally, with papers and sponsorship, just as the world was closing up. It was a precise, calculated exit. He had slipped through the door before it slammed shut behind him.
“You were a ghost,” William said, tapping the document. His father had erased his own existence. He hadn’t just moved to a new country; he had abandoned an entire identity. He had arrived in America as a blank slate, ready to start over in a place where nobody knew his name.