While my daughter was trapped in a body racked with pain, waiting day after day for a father's love that would never come.
How ironic. How laughable.
My heart felt like it had been ripped open, raw and bleeding, the pain radiating through every limb, every bone.
Julian watched me in silence. Then he exhaled, long and heavy, his voice thick with guilty resignation.
"Gertrude, I know I failed you."
"Whatever you want, name it. If it's in my power, I'll make it happen."
"I want you to divorce her."
I lifted my eyes and looked straight into his.
"Give me back what you owe me. All of it."
"Can you do that?"
His hand went rigid around mine. When he looked at me, there was something pleading in his gaze.
"Gertrude, Grace and I are already married."
"She's fragile. She's not strong like you. If I leave her, she and the baby could both be in danger."
"Gertrude, you know how hard it is for a child to grow up without a father."
Those words sliced into me like a blade, and tears splashed onto the back of my hand.
How could I not know?
I was raised by a single mother myself.
I knew exactly how many cold stares, how much hardship a child endured without a father's protection.
I sniffed hard, my voice breaking.