My mother gave that man 35 years of loyalty. I told Nathan: complete faithfulness. And he repaid her with 28 years of calling her a liar.
I picked up my phone and pulled up a local genetics lab I’d researched months ago. Gan Trust: independent, certified, and most importantly, not connected to Gerald.
“I’ll take the test,”
I said.
“But I’ll do it my way.”
Two weeks later, Gerald turned 60. The party was held at the Fairfield Country Club. 18 holes of manicured green overlooking Long Island Sound, a private dining room with floor to ceiling windows and 30 relatives gathered to celebrate the man who’d made my mother’s life a prison. I wore a simple black dress. Nathan squeezed my hand as we walked in, whispering,
“2 hours. We can survive two hours.”
We couldn’t.
Halfway through dinner, after three glasses of Chateau Marggo, Gerald stood up to give a speech. He thanked everyone for coming. He praised Marcus for his brilliant career in finance. He raised a glass to my mother for her patience. Then his eyes found me.
“I see my daughter is here tonight,”
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