“That woman’s daughter is the one who seduced Colin?” she says, pressing a trembling hand to her chest, her voice rising in disbelief. “My God… how could she do that after what her own mother did?”
My gaze shifts to my father. His brow is deeply furrowed.
“His assistant?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, keeping my eyes on him, searching for even the slightest sign of recognition. “You must have seen her at the lunch we hosted in November—the one celebrating the acquisition deal. You really didn’t recognize her?”
“Of course not.” His response is immediate. “I barely saw that girl a few times, and it was so long ago. There’s no way I would have recognized her.” His tone is firm, almost offended.
“She said you and her mother were together for almost a year,” I say in a low voice. “That you even went to her school plays when she was a kid.”
My heart twists painfully as I watch him. Processing, calculating, deciding what to admit and what to bury.
“All lies!” my mother bursts out, stepping toward me, her voice trembling.
“Your father made a mistake, yes—but it was nothing serious. It only happened a few times. She was young, beautiful, and he was foolish enough to give in to temptation. But he regretted it, Cecily. He ended it the moment he realized what really mattered.”
Her voice hitches, desperation bleeding through every word.
“You shouldn’t believe a single thing that woman said. Especially not someone who went on to seduce your husband.”
“Who am I supposed to trust? You and Dad, who never told me anything?” I say, my voice firm, the hurt clear enough to make her take a step back.
“Why won’t you let Dad speak, Mom?” I add. “He’s the one who had the affair.”
I turn to him just as he sits down on the couch, his shoulders heavy.
“It was almost fourteen years ago, Cecily. A meaningless affair. It didn’t last more than two or three months,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “It was just me and your mother here after you got married and moved out. I was lonely on a trip I took for a conference, and... it happened.”
“You’re lying.” My voice shakes, but my eyes don’t move from his face.
“I’m not,” he says evenly.
I can feel my throat tighten, heat flooding my chest. “No, you are. It’s written all over your face. In every answer. It’s the same look Colin had. The same lies.”
He exhales slowly, meeting my eyes, but there’s no honesty there anymore.
“I’m telling you the truth. That woman meant nothing to me. It was a mistake—a stupid, fleeting moment of weakness.”
I shake my head, my eyes stinging as the words come out.
“She told me about the flowers. Red roses for her mother…yourGrace. And daisies for her.”
My voice breaks, trembling under the weight of it.
“You always brought us flowers too, every weekend. white roses for Mom and pink tulips for me.”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then, with a sigh. “It happened once. The last time I saw them. Just a kind gesture, nothing more. Men from my generation give flowers. It didn’t mean anything romantic.”
Where is my father? Who is this man?
“Did you know her mother killed herself wearing the last dress you gave her?” I ask, my voice barely holding together.
He flinches.
It’s the only honest reaction I’ve seen from him since I walked in.
“It’s tragic, yes,” he says finally. “Every life lost is a profound sadness. But I can’t be blamed for that. If she was mentally unstable, her family should have made sure she got the help she needed.”
