From across the room, I heard a chair scrape back. Marcus—silent, compliant Marcus—stood up. For a moment, I thought he would come to his father’s defense like he always had. Instead, he walked past Gerald without a glance and crossed to our mother’s side.
“Mom.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m sorry. I should have said something years ago. I should have.”
Diane pulled him into a hug, her tears soaking into his shoulder. And Gerald remained on his knees, watching his family choose each other over him.
For 28 years, my mother had lived in Gerald Townsen’s shadow. She had endured his accusations at breakfast and dinner, and every moment in between. She had cried herself to sleep more nights than anyone knew. She had swallowed his cruelty like medicine, telling herself that maybe someday he would see the truth. Now the truth was everywhere—on screens and documents, in the face of a stranger who carried her blood.
Diane stepped forward slowly, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The crowd parted for her. Even Marcus stepped aside. She stopped in front of Gerald, who was still on one knee, his face wet with tears I’d never seen him cry before.
“28 years, Gerald.”
Her voice was steady, stronger than I’d ever heard it.
“28 years. I stayed because I loved you. Because I believed that someday you would trust me. Because I thought our family was worth fighting for.”
Gerald looked up at her.
“Diane, I—”
She raised her hand, cutting him off.
“Not yet. You don’t get to apologize yet.”
The room held its breath.
“You owe me an apology in front of every person who received that email. You owe Tori an apology for every birthday you ruined, every graduation you ignored, every moment you made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own family.”
She gestured toward Rachel, who stood frozen near the door.
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