“I asked you to handle the divorce. I never asked you to prevent me from knowing about my children.”
Richard’s voice became defensive.
“Adrian, you were building a career. Your father was concerned that an ongoing dispute would damage the company and your future.”
“My daughters were not a dispute.”
“I understand that now.”
“No, you understand that you’ve been caught.”
I ended the call.
For several minutes, I sat motionless.
I had spent thirteen years believing Marianne had simply disappeared.
The truth was worse.
She had tried to reach me.
She had asked for help.
And the people closest to me had decided that my daughters were an inconvenience best kept out of sight.
But I had still been the man who signed the divorce papers.
I had still walked away.
No one had forced me to stop loving Marianne.
No one had forced me to accuse her of trapping me.
