He let out a broken laugh. “That’s the one thing I know.”
“Then hold on to that.”
He looked at me, eyes red. “I should have stopped her years ago.”
I didn’t rush to comfort him.
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “I kept asking you to be patient because it was easier than dealing with her.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
That one mattered.
Not the empty kind people say just to end a fight.
“I know,” I said.
A few days later, Robert asked to see Dave alone.
When Dave came home, he looked exhausted—but steadier.
Robert had told him, “DNA doesn’t undo a lifetime.”
He had raised Dave. Loved him. Claimed him. That hadn’t changed.
And Sam would remain in the will.
So would Dave.
Patricia, however, was done controlling anything.
Then the messages started.
Long, frantic texts.
Leave a Comment