Then one Sunday, Lily showed up at my house looking deeply troubled.
She sat at my kitchen table and peeled at the label of a water bottle.
“Dad,” she said carefully, “don’t get upset.”
Nobody has ever spoken those words before delivering good news.
I sighed.
“What happened?”
Lily hesitated.
“Nicholas is worse than you think.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“How bad?”
“He barely works.”
“I already suspected that.”
“No, Dad. I mean barely.”
She explained that Nicholas constantly claimed he was doing freelance consulting work.
Meanwhile, Sarah paid for almost everything.
First there was a car.
Then temporary financial difficulties.
Then old debts that supposedly just needed a little more time.
Every time Sarah questioned him, he turned the conversation into a lecture about trust and support.
I rubbed my jaw.
“And Mom is okay with all this?”
“She tries to be.”
Then Lily looked down.
“There’s more.”
The way she said it immediately made me nervous.
“What?”
She took a breath.
“He told Mom that if she refuses to have a baby with him, he won’t marry her.”
For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard.
“What?”
“He said if she really loves him, she’ll give him a family.”
I shot out of my chair so quickly it nearly tipped backward.
“Sarah is fifty-five years old.”
“I know.”
My hands clenched.
“Did he actually say that?”
