My Wife Cheated With Our Daughter’s Boyfriend—Then Vanished And Returned Pregnant With His Baby.

My Wife Cheated With Our Daughter’s Boyfriend—Then Vanished And Returned Pregnant With His Baby.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
My wife cheated with our daughter's boyfriend, then vanished and
returned pregnant with his baby. Dad. Emily said, switching off
the radio, you've got to talk to mom. It's straight
up embarrassing. She dresses like one of the girls in
my class. I kept my eyes on the road. I
couldn't deny it stung. Laurie had just left the house
in a pink flor track suit, juicy across the bum,

(00:21):
in sparkly letters. It looked more college party than school
drop off. She's proud of staying in shape, I said,
keeping it cool. Not many women her age can pull
that off. That's kind of the whole issue. Emily muttered,
She's not my roommate, she's my mom. I didn't know
what to say, mostly because I agreed with her. It
wasn't just the clothes, it was the message. Laurie didn't
want to grow up, and Emily couldn't tell if she

(00:42):
had a mom or a classmate at home. Back when
Emily was little, Laurie was all over her playdates, crafts,
you name it. But as Emily got older, things shifted.
Laurie didn't really adjust. By high school, she was acting
more like Emily's best friend than her mom. I remembered
this one time when Emily was a junior, her girlfriends
were over chatting about boys and shoes. Laurie jumped right
in like one of the crew. I was in the

(01:03):
other room grading papers when Emily stormed in, red faced, Dad,
can you tell mom to give me my friends back?
It was wild. They were acting like two seniors fighting
over a prom date. I tried talking to Laurie after that,
told her Emily needed some space. She just shrugged. We're
more like sisters, she said. Sisters fight, it's normal. Honestly,
that attitude drove me nuts. It felt like Laurie was

(01:25):
fighting time, competing with her own kid, just to feel young. Still,
I didn't want to throw her under the bus in
front of Emily. I stuck to the surface level stuff. Look, baby,
I said gently, your mom works hard to look the
way she does. She's proud of that. You've got to
admit not many moms could even wear that stuff. I
get it. Emily sighed, but it's just weird My friends
dressed like that, not their moms. I hear you, I said,

(01:48):
I'll talk to her. Thing is I knew it wouldn't
do much. Laurie was stubborn as hell. It was one
of the reasons I fell for her. We met back
in college. I was a teaching assistant in history and
she was in my class. Caught my eye, but I
played it cool, didn't want trouble. Still, she noticed kept
flirting after lectures, touching my arm, batting her lashes, sitting
front row, always with her skirt a little too high.

(02:09):
She was testing me. I didn't cave until the semester ended.
Then I asked her out. The chemistry was nuts, but
it wasn't just fire. It turned into something real. By
the time she graduated, I knew she was it. When
she brought me home to Savannah to meet her folks,
I planned to ask her dad for her hand. Cecily,
her little sister, opened the door, super sweet, gave me
a big hug. She was born way later, like sixteen

(02:32):
years younger than Laurie. Laurie basically raised her, but Laurie's
mom was cold. Her dad straight up ice Rufus Carlton
was this big shot lawyer Savannah Royalty. He took one
look at me and decided, nope, I wasn't it too poor,
too liberal too, not him. I tried to explain, I
wasn't some fringe activist, and I'd already landed a teaching
gig in Atlanta. Didn't matter. He had plans for Laurie,

(02:54):
country club, husband, gated community, the whole Southern script. I
wasn't in it. I was pissed. But Laurie, she lost it,
didn't even wait out the weekend, had a fight with
her dad, grabbed her bag and told me we were leaving.
That's when I really saw who she was. Fire in
her gut. She'd never been her father's puppet, and she
wasn't about to start now. I'm not letting that man
run my life, she said. As we drove back back

(03:16):
at my place, Laurie spun me around, hands tight on
my shoulders. You still want to marry me, she asked,
eyes locked, kind of pissed, Yeah, I said, without blinking. Cool,
let's go. Next thing I know. We're in the car,
flying down to the Fulton County Clerk's office, no delay,
no waiting, got the license, set our vows right there,
Boom married. Her dad lost it, cut her off. No calls,

(03:38):
no birthday cards, not even when Emily was born, cold
as ice, and it wasn't just him, the whole Carlton
Klan followed suit. Ceesely wrote her once asked Lurie to
make peace with their dad. Laurie tossed the letter, never replied.
I tried patching things up over the years, wrote called
nothing silence. No doubt where Laurie got that heart headed streak.

(04:01):
I was deep in that memory when I noticed we
were pulling up to campus Emily's summer job at the bookstore.
I'd pulled a few strings to get it for her.
She popped the car door open. I grabbed her arm. Hey,
what time should I swing by later? She paused, smiled
a little. You don't have to, I'll find my way home.
I nodded, but my gut tightened. I already knew who

(04:21):
was giving her a ride. Brandon Hilton, law student, third year,
too damn old for her. Look, I know how college
dudes operate. I teach here. Guys like him circle the
freshman like hawks, and girls like Emily new eager still teens.
They don't always see it coming. I never liked Brandon.
Laurie met him once, chatted him up and said he
seemed fine. I bit my tongue. All right, I told

(04:42):
Emily see you at dinner. I watched her walk off,
then headed to the history department, still feeling off. I
didn't think Emily was some wide eyed innocent I figured
her last high school boyfriend had already crossed that line
with her. But Laurie and I had been straight with
her about sex, and Laurie had made sure Emily was
on the pill, so at least she was safe. Still,
I wished Brandon would vanish. Back in my tiny office,

(05:04):
I tried to lose myself in work. College paperwork never ends,
even in summer, but I was hyped. I finally convinced
the department head to let me teach an elective based
on my dissertation, Vigilantism. My idea, Vigilantes aren't just side
notes in history. They show what happens when people stopped
trusting the system. It's messy, it's moral chaos, but it matters.

(05:26):
I planned a show. AST wished wish Charles Bronson goes
full lone wolf after his wife's eliminated and the cops
dropped the ball. Then to balance it, we'd read ntox
to bow incident a posse hangs the wrong men fast,
justice bad ending. First class went smooth. Kids liked it,
loved the action, but they got the deeper stuff too.

(05:46):
I left campus feeling good. That lasted until I got home.
The door slammed. Emily ran to her room crying. I
knocked em Can I come in? Okay, daddy, came a
muffled voice. She was face down on the bed, shaking.
I sat beside her, pulled her close. She clung to
me like she used to when she was five, and
scraped her knee. Her tears soaked into my shirt. What happened,

(06:07):
baby girl? She sniffled. Brandon dumped me. I held her tight.
I'm so sorry. I said truth. I wasn't dude was trash.
But I couldn't say that now, not while she was hurting.
I stayed quiet, just rubbed her back, let her cry
it out. Then I heard Laurie come home. Figured maybe
a mom's voice could help, so I slipped downstairs. We

(06:28):
had a bit of a meltdown. I told her. Brandon
ditched Emily, she's wrecked. Laurie raised an eyebrow. Good about
damn time. I blinked, Wait, I thought you liked the guy.
He was wrong for her. She snapped, too smooth, too slick.
She'll be better off. You going to say something to her, Nah,
let her cry it out, she'll bounce back. I didn't

(06:49):
expect that. I figured she'd be soft, huggy mom mode.
But nope, that job was mine today. I hope you're right,
I said. Emily skipped dinner that night. Next morning, she
had a little toast, then got sick and went right
back to bed. I called the bookstore, told them she
was out sick. Laurie said she'd be fine. I hoped
she was right. Emily went back to work the next day,

(07:10):
but she barely touched food, gave up on breakfast completely.
I figured it might be the flu, but she said
she was fine, so I backed off. Truth was, she
was still wrecked over Brandon, but yeah, she did seem
a bit better. That lasted until Friday. I stayed late
at the office, trying to knock out a few things
so I could keep the weekend clear. Got home close
to six o'clock, dropped my bag in the study, went

(07:32):
looking for the girls. Emily's door was closed. I heard
crying again. I knocked soft, em it's me. I cracked
the door. She was on the bed face red, tears running.
When she saw me, her face crumpled and she ran
into my arms, sobbing hard. Hey, hey, baby, talk to me,
what's wrong. She buried her face in my shoulder. Then
slowly she looked up, eyes wide scared. Oh daddy, her

(07:55):
voice cracked. I'm pregnant. My head spun. I turned next
to her on the bed, could barely think what came
out of my mouth next. Dumbest things I ever said?
Are you sure? How did this? Even she didn't even
blink at how stupid I sounded. I took a test yesterday,
came back positive. Went to the clinic today. They said,

(08:15):
I'm six weeks, but you've been on the pill. I
told the doctor that. She said it doesn't always work.
I guess I'm the lucky one. I pulled her in tighter.
In that moment, we both wished she was still five
and this was just some bad dream. We sat there
a long while, quiet, just holding on. Finally I looked
at her, does your mom know? She shook her head.

(08:36):
She's not home yet. Of all the nights for LORI
to be late, I glanced at the clock, seven o'clock.
Come on, let's get some food. We went to the kitchen,
found some leftovers. Ate in silence for a bit. Then
I asked, did you tell Brandon? Her face darkened. I
tried his Number's dead. I even called his landlord. He
said Brandon skipped town. No note, no, nothing, exactly what

(08:59):
I expected, but I kept it to myself. Instead, I
asked what had been chewing at me since? She told
me you thought about what comes next? She nodded slowly.
I don't know. I'm not ready to be a mom.
A baby would wreck school. Her voice broke again. But
I don't think I can, you know, get rid of it.
Another pause, than quiet, But sure, I think I want

(09:19):
to have the baby. I stood, walked over, hugged her tight.
Then we're with you, Me and mom. We've got your back.
We'll figure it out. She looked up, eyes full of tears.
I love you, daddy. I love you too, baby. We
sat back down, finished eating, No more words needed. The
clock said passed eight. Still no Lory. I tried her cell,

(09:39):
straight to voicemail, called her office, no answer. I dialed Jackie,
her best friend. Hey Jackie, it's Tom. You heard from
Laurie today. Jackie sounded surprised. No, not in a few days,
thought she was with you. She left work this afternoon
for a meeting. She hasn't come home. After I hung up,
Emily looked at me. Nervous, Is Mama okay? She probably

(10:01):
had a meeting or interview. Might have told me and
I forgot truth. I didn't believe that I felt something off,
but Emily didn't need more stress. We went to the
living room, turned on the TV. Some cheesy talent show
was on. We watched, joked about it like we used to,
like everything was still normal, even though it wasn't. By
the time the show ended, Emily was nodding off. You've

(10:23):
had a day. I said, softly, get some rest. I'll
tell mom when she gets back. We'll talk more tomorrow.
She nodded and went to her room. I stayed up waiting.
Next thing I knew, sunlight hit my face. I blinked,
sat up. I'd passed out on the couch. The bedroom
was still empty. I ran to the garage. Her car
was gone. Now I was really freaked. Tried her cell nothing,

(10:43):
called her office, still no answer. I looked up her
boss's home number, called him. His words chilled me. She
showed up. Friday left mid afternoon for a meeting. Hasn't
been back. I'd never dealt with someone going missing. Didn't
even know where to start. I grabbed the phone, started
calling hospitals. Nothing. Finally I called the cops. After getting
passed around. Some tired sounding sergeant picked up. We got

(11:05):
no reports of accidents or unknown persons matching your wife's info.
He said, most likely something came up, maybe she just
didn't have time to call. But her car is gone too.
I said, that kind of points more to her leaving
on purpose. Still, your calls logged. If she doesn't turn
up in seventy two hours, we'll file it as missing.
Give me the make, model and plate, and we'll keep

(11:27):
an eye out. I gave it to him, said thanks,
felt anything but calm. Laurie wouldn't just ghost like this,
not without a word. I had to stay cool for
Emily the whole weekend. I called everyone, friends, co workers,
even old family contacts. No one had seen or heard
from her. I thought about Savannah, but didn't think she'd
go back there, not after the way things ended with

(11:47):
her folks. We didn't want to leave the house in
case Lourie came home. The place felt like a box quiet, tense,
heavy phone rang a few times, all friends asking for news,
but we had none. Monday came. Emily's nausea was still bad,
but she figured skipping breakfast helped. I switched to cold cereal,
kept the kitchen smell free, still brewed coffee, old habits.

(12:08):
You sure you don't want to go to work, I asked.
She looked worn but nodded, yeah, might help. I dropped
her off. My first class wasn't till one o'clock. Around
ten o'clock, the phone rang, same cop from before, mister Manning,
heard from your wife. Yet no, still nothing? All right,
it's been seventy two hours. We're opening a missing person's case.

(12:29):
Can you come down and fill out the forms? Yeah.
On my way at the station, a detective walked me
back to his desk. Thought I'd already told them everything,
but he wanted more, way, more, where she went, what
mood she'd been in, stress fights, any new habits. It
felt endless. Then, just when I thought we were wrapping up,
he said, real casual. Oh, and we think we found

(12:50):
her car. I stared, what where is she? He didn't blink.
Car was found on the top floor of the garage
near your campus. I froze you sure she wasn't seen
on Friday? Nope, you're the last person to say you
saw her. I nodded. Breakfast that morning. All right, mister Manning,

(13:10):
that's it for now. I stood up, a little shaky.
Can I get the keys to her car? He shook
his head. Forensics is going through it looking for prince blood.
That kind of thing blood, I whispered. It hit me hard,
like I'd been kicked in the gut. My legs almost
gave out. Was she hurt or worse? The next few
days were hell. My mind ran wild, hijacked, attacked, dead

(13:33):
in some ditch. I felt sick thinking how pissed I'd
been when she didn't come home. Now I'd give anything
to hear her voice. Emily was spiraling. The pregnancy had
her on edge already, and now this. She wouldn't let
go of me, barely slept, jumped at every sound, said
she didn't feel safe, held her belly like a shield.
Laurie's vanishing cracked us both. Then things got even worse.

(13:54):
A detective from Missing Persons called told me to come
in again. When I got there, they walked me into
a small room. Another cop was waiting. This is Detective Row.
The first one said, she's with homicide. Homicide. I dropped
into the wooden chair, like my legs quit working. My
voice barely came out. You found LORI is she know?
The woman said, we haven't found her, but we found

(14:16):
a few things worth talking about. We checked every airline,
bus station. Nobody matching her showed up Friday or Saturday.
Her bank accounts untouched, credit cards too, No movement, she
leaned forward. So no answers yet, But we've got a
lot of questions for you. I stared me. Why I've
already told you everything I know. She left work that

(14:37):
day in her car. Roe said, that same car was
found on your campus. We dusted it, only prints in
there were yours and hers. So how do you explain that?
I blinked? What do you mean? I've been in her
car plenty of times. I drove it last week. Why
wouldn't my prince be there? She didn't flinch. How is
your marriage, mister, manning? Any fights? Cheating? Money problems? Started

(15:00):
to get it. My stomach turned. You think I did
something to her? I said, I'm the one who reported
her missing. Roe crossed her arms. Husband's reporting missing wives
is actually pretty common in these kinds of cases, in
these kinds of Are you accusing me of something? Do
I need a lawyer now? She glanced at her partner.
If you feel you need one, that's your right, he said,

(15:22):
I didn't do anything. I snapped. My wife is missing,
and you're wasting time grilling me. Relax, mister Manning, The
first detective said, we're just working through possibilities. You're her husband,
You're where we start. You want us to find her,
don't you. I sat back, still pissed, but trying to
stay calm. Yeah, what do you want to know? Any

(15:43):
problems between you and your wife? No? None? Roe pressed,
nothing serious, Same stuff as any couple, little arguments, parenting stuff.
She leaned in, anything new? Come up? Something about your daughter?
I hesitated, then let out a breath. Yeah, thing, Emily's pregnant.
The two detectives glanced at each other. How did your

(16:05):
wife take the news, the guy asked. Before I could answer,
Roe jumped in, maybe that's why she left. Maybe it
upset her. Maybe you two fought. Did something happen, mister Manning?
Did you lose your temper? I slammed my hands on
the table stood up. What the hell, how dare you?
The male detective grabbed my arm and pushed me back
into the chair. Take it easy, my partner got ahead

(16:28):
of herself. I stared at her, shaking with rage. I
love my wife. Only one I love more is my daughter.
I'd die for either of them, and Laurie didn't even
know Emily was pregnant. She never came home that night.
I turned to the guy, I'm done with this unless
you're charging me. I'm leaving. He let go of my arm.
We're done for now, but we might need to talk

(16:48):
again later. I stood started walking out, mister Manning. He called,
don't leave town. I shot him a look and walked out.
Door slammed behind me. I could still hear them arguing
as I had headed to my car. My hands were shaking,
heart racing. I tried to talk myself down. They're just
doing their jobs, standard stuff, but it didn't help. They

(17:08):
thought I hurt LORII. When I got home, Emily was waiting.
Did the cops find anything? She asked? I forced a smile, No, sweetheart,
just wanted to go over some details again. Still nothing new.
I hated lying to her, but I couldn't drop that
weight on her too. Next day, worse cops showed up
with a warrant. I sat out back while they searched
the house, every drawer, every closet, every damn box. I

(17:32):
had no clue what they were hoping to find, but
they didn't get it. While they tore through the place,
I called my lawyer, figured it was time. As the
cops packed up, a tow truck rolled in and hauled
off my car. Said I'd get it back in a
few days. Laurie's car was still in their lot too.
Had to ask a neighbor for a ride to the
rental place. The only good thing Emily wasn't home when
it happened, but I knew we couldn't dodge the next

(17:53):
hit forever. Two days later, I was reading the paper,
sipping coffee when I saw the headline. Husband named person
of interest in low woman's disappearance. I nearly dropped the mug.
The article laid out Laurie's case, talked about the search warrant,
dropped hints, no names, no charges, but the message was
loud and clear. They thought I did something foul play,
and I was their guy. Emily read it too. She

(18:15):
broke down crying. I was furious. I grabbed the phone,
called my lawyer. They just painted me as a butcher,
I snapped, can't I sue for this? It's defamation. They
don't even know if there's been a crime, John, He said, calmly.
I already looked into it. My guests. Cops leaked it
to turn up the heat on you. But the article's careful,

(18:35):
no false facts, just phrased a certain way. It's still bullshit.
I growled. And Laurie had friends at that paper, I know,
He said, You've just got to be patient. Let it
play out. I muttered. Hung up. That afternoon, I got
to my office and saw a note tape to the door.
See chair of History Department, a SAP. I went straight

(18:56):
to Henry Vance's office. His secretary waved me in. He
didn't waste time, John, he said, with everything going on,
we think someone else should finish your summer course for now.
I kept my voice level. Laurie's the one missing, Henry,
not me. I can still teach. I get that, he said,
but with all this attention, it's not a good look,

(19:16):
not for you, not for the department. I stood, So
I'm guilty to proven innocent. Huh, that's not what you
teach American history, I cut in. You forget how justice
is supposed to work. He tried to speak, but I
kept going, I'm teaching a class on vigilantism and here
you are ready to string me up with no proof.
Come on, John, does the dean back this? Did you

(19:38):
even check with faculty, Senate? Or are you just winging it?
He didn't answer. Well, unless you've got orders from the top,
I'll be in my lecture haul at one, and if
you try to stop me, I'll raise hell. You'll be
the one looking for a new job. He sank into
his chair. I care about this school, Henry, I said,
softer but firm. I wouldn't do anything to hurt it.
But I'm not going to sit back while you throw

(19:59):
me under the bus us. Then I walked out. No one
stopped me on my way to class. No security, no admin,
just students packed room. Felt weirdly good, like maybe I
still mattered. I had planned to lecture on vigilantes versus terrorists,
but instead I told them what had happened about the article,
the meeting with Vance, the vibe on campus. Then I asked,
can the press act like vigilantes. Where's the line between

(20:21):
truth and blame? We talked about Hurst, how his newspapers
helped start a war. He never fired a shot, I said,
but historians say he lit the match. Then I asked,
what about my department chair? Is he protecting the school
or jumping to conclusions? It turned into a real talk,
honest heavy. Students didn't want to leave when it ended.
I hated being in this mess, but at least I

(20:42):
turned it into something useful, a teachable moment. But outside
the class things were worse. After Laurie first went missing,
our phone rang off the hook, friends, family, all offering help.
Now dead quiet. One article turned us toxic. People stayed
away like we were contagious. Then the phone rang again.
I picked up you, fool. A voice roared. It was

(21:03):
Laurie's father. Rufus Carlton, What the hell did you do
to my daughter? He yelled. I took a breath, evening
to you too, Rufus. Nobody knows what happened to Laurie.
We're doing what we can. Don't feed me that crap.
The husband always does it. I knew you were trouble
from day one. She chose you over her family, and
now look she's gone, and I swear we're going to

(21:25):
find out what you did. I've got people on this.
You won't walk away, I snapped. I hear you rufus
loud and clear. But let me say this. You didn't
know me back then, and you sure as hell don't
know me now. You cut Laurie off for twenty years.
You want to play the grieving dad. Now spare me.
He started to shout again, but I slammed the phone
down so hard the echo bounced off the walls. Then

(21:45):
I dropped into my chair, shaking. I was done, done
being blamed, done being cornered, and still no sign of Lourie.
Each day that passed, it felt like Laurie was further
out of reach. Hope was dying slow. I was barely
holding on until Emily gave me a reason. One night,
She sat next to me on the couch and said, Daddy,
I want to take a Lama's class, learn how to
do this whole birth thing. But I need a partner

(22:07):
and I don't really have anyone else. Will you go
with me? Of course, I said, didn't even think about it.
A few nights later, we were in a hospital conference room.
Surrounded by couples. Some of the moms to be looked
like they were about to pop. It hit me hard,
this was really happening. A red haired woman, maybe a
few years younger than me, walked over. Hi, welcome, I'm

(22:27):
Bridget Murphy, your instructor. Emily introduced herself. Bridget smiled and
told her to mingle with the others. Then she turned
to me, and you are I wasn't all there, just
mumbled John Manning, I'm the father. Her smile dropped. I
realized what she was thinking. Oh no, no, I mean
I'm her dad, not you know, the dad. Bridget laughed,

(22:49):
got it. Sorry, you'd be surprised what I've seen in here.
She paused, where's the baby's father? I let out a breath, Gone,
no clue, where so I'm stepping in. She gave a
soft nod. I'm sorry, but good on you. A lot
of dads don't show up. You being here matters. I
looked over. Emily was laughing with a couple of the moms.

(23:10):
Just seeing that smile lit something in me. Before we start,
I should probably say something, I told Bridget, you might
have seen my name in the paper. I'm fat tat
John John Manning, the one with the missing wife. I
didn't do anything, but if that's a problem, I can
work something else out. She looked at me a second,
then gave a slow smile. You're here for your daughter.

(23:31):
That's all I care about. Besides, I doubt Butcher's sign
up for Lama's class. We got started. I'd done this
once before with Lourie, back when Emily was on the way,
but most of it had faded. Still, I gave it
my best. Emily loved the class. She clicked with, Bridget
felt less alone. It helped her. It helped me too.
Even just getting out of the house once a week
helped me Breathe again, stopped my mind from spinning out

(23:53):
on Lourie, the cops, the whispers, not that the noise stopped.
The calls started first, people yelling, blaming, calling me asada.
Then came letters, anonymous trash people said they knew what
I did. One even offered me money if i'd confessed
to a tabloid. So when I got an unmarked envelope
one afternoon, I almost trashed it, but something about it
made me pause. Inside was a short letter. My knees

(24:15):
buckled as I read John. I saw the news. I'm sorry.
I never thought they'd think you did something to me.
Please tell the police. I'm alive and well. I'm with
someone I love. File for divorce if you haven't already.
I'm not coming back. Please tell Emily I love her,
even though I know I hurt her. Laurie right then
Emily walked in. Dad, what happened? I just handed her

(24:36):
the letter. She read it fast, hands shaking. Her whole
face changed, shock, heartbreak. She just left us, she whispered.
She didn't even say goodbye. She collapsed into my arms,
sobbing hard, holding her. I felt it, that twisted blend
of relief and fury. Laurie was alive, but she'd ghosted
her family, no warning, no goodbye. Emily wiped her face

(24:56):
and sat up. WE have to take this to the
cops right now, she was right. I grabbed my wallet
and keys. She met me at the door. I'm going
with you, she said. I didn't argue. In the car,
she sat quiet, holding the letter tight. Then softly, are
you going to divorce her? I looked over. She was
barely holding it together. I'll talk to the lawyer, see
what he says. I think you should, she whispered, I

(25:18):
really do. She reached for my hand. We held on
the rest of the way. At the station, we didn't
call ahead, but luck hit the missing person's detective was in.
I asked for the woman from homicide too, the one
who'd been dodging me since day one, and they finally
brought her in. We sat down across from them. I
pulled out the letter and slid it across the desk.

(25:39):
This came today. The guy read it, then handed it
to her. She read it flat, no emotion. Then she
looked up and said, you could have written this yourself.
My blood boiled, but I stayed calm. Sure I could have.
Maybe I flew to New York mailed it to myself.
Did you miss the postmark? Before the woman cop could
say anything, Emily pulled another envelope out of her purse.

(26:01):
And before you accuse my dad of faking that letter,
she said, here's one Mom wrote me when I went
to camp. Go ahead, compare the handwriting. The first detective
laid the two letters side by side. His partner leaned
over to look. They shared a glance. Then he turned
to us, we'll send it to the lab to confirm.
He said, but yeah, looks like this closes the case.
He held out his hand, sorry for the heat we

(26:22):
had to check. I shook his hand barely. When the
woman cop offered hers, I looked past her and walked
out with Emily. No one made an official statement, no
press release, no apology. Sure I was no longer a suspect,
but there was no cleanup. My name was still trash
and nobody cared. I had my lawyer call the paper,
threatened a lawsuit. They agreed to print an update, but

(26:43):
not on the front page. No headline, just a two
line blurb buried in the back. Missing wife found to
be runaway spouse. I stormed into my lawyer's office, slammed
the paper on his desk. When they thought I eliminated her,
it was front page. Now this two damned sentences. Rugg
That's how it works. John homicide sells the truth not

(27:04):
so much. I made copies of the note and mailed
them to everyone who'd turned cold on us. Dropped one
on Henry Vance's desk. He actually looked guilty when I
saw him. Congrats, he mumbled. I laminated a copy and
stuffed it in my wallet. I was ready if anyone
ever brought it up again, but I didn't send one
to rufus Carlton, let him figure it out himself. One
good thing came out of it. Once the letter was confirmed,

(27:26):
I filed for divorce Ground's desertion. It went through fast,
no contest, no fight. Legal stuff was finally clean. Emily
and I kept going to Lama's class with Bridget. A
few weeks in we started grabbing coffee after One night,
Bridget shared her story. She'd married her college boyfriend. He
was sent to Afghanistan and died in a blast. She
was pregnant when it happened, and then she lost the

(27:48):
baby too. But she didn't break. She got her degree,
became a nurse trained in Midwiffrey. Now she helps other
women bring life into the world. I sat there stunned.
As a teacher, I have to say, you've got a
real gift. You teach stuff that's hard, you make it stick.
She smiled, that's just because I've got motivated students. But
I knew better. It takes more than students. It takes heart,

(28:10):
and she had it. Driving home one night, Emily turned
to me, did you notice what Bridget was wearing? I
blinked her scrubs, No daddy. She changed. She had on
jeans and makeup. Oh, I said, that's nice. She gave
me a look like I was clueless. She dressed up
for you. She likes you. Why would she like me?

(28:31):
Emily groaned, Because you're a decent guy, You've been through
hell and you're still here. You should ask her out.
It's time. I had thought about dating again, but I
hadn't done anything. Everyone I knew was married. The single
women on campus were closer to Emily's age, and I
wasn't about to go down that road. But Emily kept
at me. So after the next class, I waited till

(28:51):
everyone left. Then I walked up to bridget Hey. I said,
would you maybe want to go out sometime? She smiled,
like coffee, More like dinner, maybe a movie. She grinned
with Emily. I laughed a little nervous. No, I mean,
just us, unless you want Emily to come. She laughed
full on this time, just us, John, That sounds nice,

(29:15):
and just like that, I was dating again. I took
it slow. It had been over twenty years. Laurie and
I had been fire and drama, highs and lows. I
couldn't do that again. Bridget was calm, steady, honest. She
didn't play games, didn't need constant praise. She was nothing
like Lori, and that was a good thing. For the
first time in a long while, I felt like I
could breathe, be myself, maybe even build something real again.

(29:38):
Emily was due around March. First. She was doing great,
no more nausea. She was glowing, excited, strong. So when
I had to drive down to our Columbus campus the
day before Valentine's Day, I didn't feel bad. It was
just a two hour trip. I told her to call
if anything happened. The drive was smooth, meeting went fine,
had a late lunch with the other faculty. Before heading home.

(29:58):
I pulled out my phone dead gone. I hadn't even noticed.
I borrowed a phone. Called Emily. No answer. That's when
my gut tightened. Something felt off. Next, I called Bridget.
Her voice wasn't calm like usual. Thank god you called,
she said, Emily's water broke right after you left. She's
in full on labor. She's at the hospital. Get here

(30:18):
safe but fast. My heart dropped. I jumped in the
car and tore down I minus eighty five toward Atlanta,
somehow I dodged every cop and made it in ninety
minutes flat. At the hospital, the nurses threw scrubs at me,
but instead of rushing me to the delivery room, they
walked me to a side room. That's where I saw her,
Emily lying in bed holding a baby in her arms,

(30:40):
my granddaughter. My stomach twisted. I'd missed it the berth,
but that guilt got wiped out by the sight of
Emily smiling and the baby breathing, tiny and perfect. Then
I saw Bridget next to the bed, beaming, her eyes
locked on the baby. She looked up when she saw
me stepped back. I'll give you two some time, she
said softly, but Emily held her arm. Please don't don't go.

(31:00):
She looked at me, Daddy. When I couldn't get you,
I called Bridget. She dropped everything, got me here, stayed
the whole time. She even helped coach me through it.
I looked at Bridget, couldn't say a word, just nodded
full of thanks. Emily smiled at both of us. I've
picked her name, she said, Bridget Valentine Manning. Then she
turned to Bridget. If that's okay with you, Bridget's eyes filled.

(31:24):
I'd be honored, she whispered. Emily looked at me again.
Want to hold your granddaughter, I nodded. Been years since
I held a baby. She was so small, even smaller
than Emily had been. Her face was red and scrunched,
her breath light and fast. As I looked down, I
made a quiet promise. I'd protect her. I'd be here
no matter what. She came into the world in a storm,

(31:45):
but she was here. Now, That's what mattered. I started
learning fast why young people have babies. The first weeks
were brutal. Emily was doing great, but she still needed help.
Newborns are non stop, late night feedings, diapers, crying some nights.
I walked into my lectures with two hours of sleep
and a cup of cold coffee. Emily tried not to complain,

(32:06):
but I could see it. She was tired, deep tired.
Breastfeeding took everything out of her. Bridget reminded us often
that alone drains most new moms. But we kept it together.
Baby Bridget got bigger, stronger. We figured out a rhythm,
not perfect, but it worked. Bridget Murphy kept showing up.
She helped Emily get into parenting classes, which changed everything.

(32:26):
By month too, Emily was getting out of the house again,
baby in tow. She was smiling more, she was healing.
One afternoon, Emily was about to head to one of
her classes. I heard the doorbell, figured she needed help
with the stroller or the car seat. I opened the
door and froze. It was Laurie. Ever since I'd received
her letter, I'd imagined what I'd say if I ever
saw her again. I'd rehearsed every bit of fury, every

(32:49):
cutthroat line, every word dipped in poison. But when I
opened the door and saw her standing there, older, tired, worn,
all I could do was stare, Hey, John. She said,
barely above a whisper, Can I come in? I should
have slammed the door in her face, but instead I
stepped aside. She brushed past me like she never left,
sat down on the couch like it was still hers.

(33:10):
She looked like crap, not enough to feel sorry for,
just enough to see the years hadn't been kind. Her
makeup was barely doing the job, her clothes dull, her
hair tied back like she didn't even care anymore. It
was weird seeing her like this, human regular Emily would
have called it karma. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed,
let the silence cut a little deeper before I said,

(33:32):
you've got some freaking nerve showing up here. She flinched,
but didn't look away. I know I was scared to come.
I figured you'd hate me by now hate you. I laughed,
cold and bitter, Laurie. I passed hate a long time ago.
I'm way past that now. I just don't respect you
enough to even bother hating you. She tried to keep
it together, lips trembling. I never meant for things to

(33:53):
go the way they did. Bullshit. I straightened up, voice rising.
You didn't just leave, Lurie. You vanished. You didn't leave
a no, not a word, not even a text to
your daughter. You disappeared like a damn coward. Her eyes
welled up. I didn't give a damn you know what
happened after you pulled that Houdini act. The cops thought
I eliminated you. They came in here like I was

(34:13):
some psychopath, dug through our closets, ripped apart our bedroom,
treated me like a goddamn criminal. They impounded my damn car. Laurie,
you ever have cops search for blood in your trunk,
while your neighbors stare from their windows. She couldn't even
look at me now, head down, shame all over her.
Our friends ghosted me, our family whispered behind my back,

(34:34):
people spit on me in public. Emily got called a
slayer's kid at school. I lost clients, I lost friends,
I almost lost everything, And the whole damn time you
were shacked up in some fantasy f pad playing house
with Brandon freaking Hilton. She blinked, stunned. Then the crocodile tears,
always so good at turning it on. I didn't know
it was that bad, she said, voice shaking. I swear, John,

(34:56):
I didn't know all of that happened. I thought I
thought you'd be angry, but I didn't think. Of course,
you didn't think. You never do. You just act than
whine when it all comes crashing down. That's you in
a nutshell, impulsive, selfish, and always the sufferer. I didn't
plan it, she whimpered. It just started with Brandon. It
was dumb flirting. I didn't mean for it to turn

(35:17):
into something. I just felt you felt young, I snapped,
isn't that what this was all about you wanted to
feel young again, so you stole your own daughter's boyfriend.
Who the hell does that? Laurie, Her voice cracked. I
didn't mean to hurt Emily. You didn't mean to hurt her.
You slept with her boyfriend, made him dumber, then you
ran off with him. You didn't just hurt her, you

(35:38):
humiliated her. You broke her. I made Brandon end it
with her, she said quickly. I thought that would make
it easier. Don't don't freaking do that, I said, stepping closer.
Don't twist it like you were being some protective mother.
You didn't do it for Emily. You did it for you.
You wanted to prove you still had it, that you
were still hot, shit, that you could take what wasn't yours,

(35:59):
even if it was your. She started sobbing, face buried
in her hands. But I wasn't done, not even close.
And after all that, you just left, no goodbye, no suitcase,
just hopped in a car with him and took off
like this was some movie. She looked up, eyes red.
It wasn't like that. I was at work and I
left early to see him. He said he was leaving town,
and I begged him not to go. Then he said,

(36:19):
are you coming or not? And I didn't even think.
I just went. You just went, I repeated, cold as ice,
with nothing. She hesitated. I had a gym bag, a
few things I kept at his place. That one little
detail hit harder than everything else. She'd been planning this.
She had a damn go bag at his apartment, like
a cheating spy, and money. I asked, you didn't touch

(36:41):
our accounts, so how the hell were you living? Her
voice dropped. He has money trust fund and I had
some too, in a private account under my maiden name.
I got up, started pacing. My hands were trembling. My
jaw clenched so tight I thought I'd crack a damn tooth.
The more she talked, the more I felt sick to
my stomach. I used to think that while streak in
her was hot electric, turns out it was just a

(37:03):
fuse waiting to blow everything the hell up. I walked
past the window and glanced outside. There was a beat
up black SUV sitting at the curb, tinted windows, engine running.
I turned slowly. He's out there, isn't he? She looked
up fast, almost startled. No, that's Jackie. I stared at her.
Let the silence sit for a second. Oh, I muttered,
dead pan, and your little boy toy lover the future.

(37:26):
You threw your whole damn life away for her face twisted.
He left me, I laughed short cold, of course he did.
She kept going like she didn't hear it. One day,
he said he had some new opportunity and that I
wasn't part of it. Just packed up and ghosted, left
me stranded in freaking Brooklyn. I tried to make it work.
I really did, John, I was working two jobs, sleeping

(37:48):
on floors. I cocked my head. So he dumped you,
just like you dumped us. Karma's a mean bitch. Huh,
I guess it is, she muttered, not looking at me.
She stood slow, walked over to the window and gave
a little wave. I asked Jackie to come in. I
narrowed my eyes. Why she turned back, her voice suddenly firmer,

(38:10):
like she rehearsed this speech. I know I've been selfish.
I know I screwed everything up, John, but don't think
for a second I don't regret it, especially leaving Emily.
That's what kills me the most. No, I said, coldly.
What kills you is the consequences. You don't regret what
you did. You regret being caught in it. You don't
get it. No, by you don't get it. You didn't

(38:32):
leave because you had to. You left because you didn't
want to face your daughter and tell her you were
screwing her boyfriend. Her face tightened, and for a second
I saw it not guilt rage. She didn't like being
told what she was. That was only part of it,
she muttered. Before I could say another word, the front
door creaked open. Jackie stepped in, holding a baby, A

(38:52):
damn baby. I froze midstep. Time just stopped. Laurie walked
over and gently took the child from Jackie's arms, her
like this was some hallmark moment. What the hell is this?
I whispered. Laurie looked up at me, eyes glassy. Now
you know why I couldn't face you, Why I couldn't
face Emily. I couldn't move, couldn't think. My heart was

(39:13):
jackhammering in my chest. She must have known the questions
burning through my skull, because she kept going, voice barely
holding together. When I left, I forgot my pills. I
couldn't get a new prescription fast enough. He never used protection, said,
it eluded the vibe. I figured, whatever, stupid, I know,
but I didn't think it would happen. And yet I said,
barely containing my fury, here we are. She bit her lip,

(39:37):
clutching the baby tighter. So I spat, did Brandon leave
before or after he knocked you up? Before she could answer,
we heard the door from the garage swing open. Emily's
voice echoed through the house. Hey, dad, whose cars parked outside?
Then she stepped into the living room, baby Bridget in
her arms. She froze. Her whole body went stiff, her
face dropped. Eyes went from me to her mom to

(39:59):
the baby in li Laurie's arms. Silence heavy, brutal. You
could hear the blood draining from her face. I should
have said something soft, should have eased her into it,
but screw it. I couldn't. I was too angry, too hurt,
too done. So I looked right at her and said,
flat as a knife, Look who your mom brought with her.
Emily blinked, confused. I nodded toward the baby, your new stepsister,

(40:21):
Laurie gasped. Jackie went pale, but Emily Emily didn't move,
just stood there holding her own child, like the air
had been sucked out of the room. I took a breath,
then twisted the knife. Laurie, I said, with all the
venom I could muster, meet baby Bridget, your granddaughter. Took
a few seconds for what I'd said to sink in.
Then both women broke down, crying. Of course, the baby

(40:42):
started crying too. Even Jackie was sobbing. I felt my
own eyes sting, but I was too tired, too numb.
I just walked out, collapsed on the couch in the
hall behind me. It was chaos, shouting, crying, sharp words flying.
That kind of pain only comes from deep betrayal. They'd
figured it out the babies had the same thing. Then silence. Later.

(41:02):
I peeked in. Jackie held Laurie's baby, Laurie held baby Bridget.
Emily hovered close to both. Emily noticed me and came over.
She tugged my sleeve. Daddy, can mom stay here just
for a while. You're joking, right, I said, After what
she did to us, I know I'm still mad too,
but she's broke, She's got nowhere to go, and her
baby needs a place. She paused, voice soft. Her baby's

(41:23):
Bridget's half sister. She's mine too. That hit me hard.
I stood there, all the weight pressing down Laurie's betrayal,
the twisted truth, the blood ties. I shook my head.
Why can't she stay with Jackie? Jackie lives in a
one bedroom dad, Emily said, like I was being dense,
then let her go to her parents. Emily scoffed, yeah, sure,

(41:44):
you know how that would go. She was right. We tried.
They'd shut the door on Lourie years ago, and she'd
done the same to them. That day, I learned two things. First,
I'll never fully get moms and daughters. I thought Emily
would rage. Instead, she gave her mom a bed. Second,
when a dog or really wants something, it's damn near
impossible to say no. The next night, I had plans

(42:04):
with Bridget. First time I didn't want to go. I
guess it showed, because the moment she opened her door,
she gave me a worried look, what's wrong? John? I
didn't dance around it, sat down on her couch. Bridget
Lorie's back. Shock flashed across her face, then pain. She paused,
so are you two getting back together? No? I said,
way too fast. No, it's not that not even close.

(42:28):
I told her the truth about Laurie showing up, about
the baby, about Emily asking me to let her stay.
Bridget listened. The pain faded some, but it was still
there in her eyes. Don't scare me like that, she
said quietly. I've already lost one man I loved. I
can't lose another. Did she just say she loved me?
I looked at her, everything clicking. All the doubts i'd
had vanished. I lost someone, too, Bridget, But now I

(42:51):
found you, and I'm not going anywhere, I promise. She
didn't answer with words, but the look in her eyes
said plenty. That night, everything changed. We crossed a line together.
It felt like the nightmare was finally fading. Bridget and
I started spending as much time together as we could.
Still lived in separate homes. We didn't want to rush.
Plus my house was full, two moms, two babies, and

(43:13):
a nanny. Bridget helped us find that woman was a
life saver. Let Emily keep going to school, gave Laurie
time to job hunt. I helped when I could, but honestly,
I wasn't the main caregiver. Anymore. The women ran the house.
That gave me more time to think, and the more
time I spent with Bridget, the more I started to
feel something else, resentment. Emily and Laurie had reached some
kind of truce. They weren't best friends, but they got by.

(43:37):
They had babies to raise. They bonded over diapers and
late night feedings. Me I still burned. Laurie had cheated, lied,
left me in the dirt. While people thought I'd hurt her,
I couldn't let it go. Then that anger turned towards
someone else, Brandon Hilton. He slept with my wife, took
my daughter's purity, left both of them wrecked, and just
walked away. No shame, no punishment, no consequences. I kept thinking,

(44:00):
how is that fair? I picked up in the ox
to Bow incident again, rate it with new eyes. This
time I understood the posse. Sure they hung the wrong guys,
but the law had failed them. They were desperate, they
had nothing else. Brandon didn't leave me to die in
the desert, but he left a trail of damage. He
broke up my family, and no one seemed to care.
My thoughts got darker by the day I spent more

(44:21):
and more nights, glued to my laptop, searching, sometimes until
the sun came up. I pictured how it might go down,
me confronting Brandon, maybe even fighting him. It was stupid.
He was younger, stronger, I'd probably lose, didn't matter. I
was burning. Hiring a PI wasn't an option. I was broke.
Lorie's income was gone, and now I had five people

(44:42):
and two babies under my roof, plus a nanny to pay.
So I did it the cheap way online. I found
his Facebook dead, no new posts, and over a year
a Google search showed his name in a law school directory.
That was it. I even stopped by the admissions office
on campus and a nice admin let me peek at
as fire strictly, not aloud. Only thing I learned he

(45:02):
was from Savannah. That hit me hard. Did Laurie know
him from before? Probably not, She'd already left town by
the time he was a kid. Still, him being from
her hometown made me angry all over again. I kept digging,
went down weird rabbit holes, learned way too much about
some hotel heiress with the same last name. Nothing useful.
Brandon had gone ghost, and the harder he was to find.

(45:23):
The more I wanted to find him, some voice in
my head kept asking, what are you going to do
if you find him? I had no plan, no real answers.
I just knew he wrecked everything. He slept with my wife,
took my daughter's purity, then vanished, while I got blamed
for everything, and he never paid for any of it.
Back in the old days, I'd have challenged him to
a duel, pistols sword, something clean, something final. But now

(45:45):
now we're civilized, Guys like me aren't allowed to get angry.
We're called toxic if we show it, obsessed, if we
chase the truth. But the question haunted me. How does
a man get his honor back without becoming a vigilante.
I kept checking in every few days, hoping for something anything.
By spring, I figured Brandon was gone for good. Then
one night I got a hit. A Savannah Morning News

(46:07):
article popped up. I read it once, then again. I
couldn't believe it. I couldn't tell Emily it destroyed her.
No way I was telling Laurie. So I called the
only person I could trust, Bridget I asked if I
could come over. She opened the door and I handed
her the print out barely able to get the words out.
I found him. I said, you're not going to believe
what he did. She read it fast, eyes scanning, then

(46:29):
looked up, confused. He's getting married John. I know you
hate the guy, but so what, I stared at her.
Of course she didn't know, Bridget, Laurie's maiden name is Carlton.
He's marrying Cicely Carlton, Laurie's little sister, Emily's aunt. She froze,
hand flew to her mouth. Oh my god, why won't
he leave the Carlton woman alone. It's like he's out

(46:50):
for revenge. I shook my head. I don't think it's
on purpose. He probably doesn't even know. Laurie's last name
was Carlton. She and Emily always used manning around him.
Bridget frowned. Okay, but how could the Carltons let Cesily
marry this guy? Don't they know what he did? They don't,
I said, Laurie barely talks to her family. They might
know she's alive now, but I doubt they know who

(47:11):
she ran off with. Rufus probably thinks his daughter's marrying
some clean cut sa Anna lawyer. Bridget looked at me
serious So if they don't know, and Brandon doesn't know,
then why do you care so much? What's happening here? John?
I paused. He's like a thief who already cleaned out
my house, and now he's coming back to take what's left.
He owes me, and this time I'm not going to

(47:34):
sit still. Her face shifted. Worry crept in, John, What
are you thinking? You're not going to do something crazy?
Are you? I didn't say it, but the thought was there.
Tell that to the Carthaginians. Rome burned their city to
the ground, eliminated everyone, and salted the fields. Force had
worked plenty of times. I don't know what I'll do,
I said, but I can't just let it happen. Now

(47:55):
that I knew where Brandon was, the anger turned sharp.
It wasn't a daydream anymore. It was real. I had
a shot a choice. I'd always believed in law, in rules.
I taught this stuff. I knew what happened when people
took justice into their own hands. But what was I
supposed to do? Let the guy walk free, let him
marry into Laurie's family, like none of it mattered my pride,

(48:15):
my honor, my whole sense of justice. It all screamed
for action. After a long night with no sleep, I
made up my mind. Once I did, it was easy
to move forward. I looked up what I needed, ordered
what I couldn't buy near by, and spent my days
getting ready. I didn't have much time, but enough if
I moved fast, I told no one said I was
grading papers, meeting students, or running errands. With two babies

(48:38):
in the house, no one noticed me slipping in and out.
But Emily and Bridget knew me too well. Right before
what i'd started calling d day, they caught on. I
was at my desk checking directions when I looked up
and saw Emily in the doorway. She looked nervous. Hey, kiddo,
I said, trying to sound normal. What's up. Bridget's here?
She said, we need to talk. That stopped me cold.

(49:00):
I hadn't planned on seeing Bridget that night. I quickly
closed my browser and stood as she walked in, serious face,
arms crossed. Before I could speak, Emily said, Bridget told
me you found Brandon. I shot a look at Bridget.
She didn't flinch. Daddy, I'm scared, Emily said, I know
you're hurt. I know you're mad, and I get it.
But if you do something dumb, if you get locked

(49:20):
up or worse, it's just going to hurt all of
us even more. Bridget stepped closer, resting a hand on
Emily's shoulder. John, Please, she said, don't do this, don't
go down that road. I already lost one man I loved.
I can't lose another. Both of them were crying now,
and for a second I felt myself weaken. These two
were everything to me. The last thing I wanted was
to bring them more pain. But I couldn't back out.

(49:42):
Not yet. A line from an old poem popped in
my head on I could not love thee dear so
much loved I not honor more. I stepped out from
behind the desk and pulled them into a hug. Thank you,
both of you. I said, that means more than I
can say. But you're worrying for nothing. I'm not going
to do anything stupid, you know me. Emily looked up
at me. Promise, Daddy. I smiled and held out my pinky,

(50:06):
pinky promise. She linked her finger with mine and gave
a little smile. But when I looked at Bridget, I
saw the doubt in her eyes. I hadn't convinced her
she'd lost a husband to war. She knew what danger
looked like, even when it smiled and said everything's fine.
I'd have to be careful from now on, not just
with what I did, but what I let them see.
I thought i'd settled it, at least for a while,

(50:27):
but the next day almost blew it all up. Emily
grabbed a package off the porch while I was still
at work. When I got home, she was waiting at
the door holding the box. What's this, Daddy, she asked,
eyes sharp. It says it's from an armory and it's heavy.
My stomach dropped. I didn't even need to open it.
I knew what it was. I'd ordered it weeks ago,
just hoped it would come late. Nothing big, I said,

(50:50):
keeping my voice calm. It's a gift for a buddy
in the history department. We're doing a re enactment next month, autumn.
She didn't say anything, just kept staring at me, smiled
and kissed her forehead like nothing was wrong. But I
saw it the doubt. She wasn't buying it. That evening,
I was in my office, door half closed, lights low,
maps spread out over my desk, just trying to think,

(51:11):
trying to breathe. Every part of me wanted to scream,
but I kept my hands busy planning, mapping, holding the
anger back with to do lists and logistics. Then the
door clicks shut behind me. I looked up. Laurie was
standing there. Of course, she didn't say anything at first,
just stood there like she belonged in the shadows, like
she'd gotten used to hiding. What do you want, I said,

(51:32):
not even looking long. She looked like hell, red eyes,
mascara streaks, like that was going to mean something now,
I just she started. Then her voice cracked. I know
I hurt you, I scoffed. You're just figuring that out now.
She bit her lip, fighting to keep her voice steady.
I've been unfaithful. I betrayed you. I tore everything apart.

(51:53):
I know that you think this is confession hour, you
think I need closure. I leaned back in my chair, arms.
Spare me the breakdown, Laurie, she stepped forward. No, you
don't get it. I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I'm asking you not to ruin your life because of me.
I finally looked up at her sharp, She went on,
I saw the maps. I know you're planning something. Just

(52:16):
whatever it is, don't do it. Don't throw your future away,
don't make Emily live through another mess. Don't give Bridget
a reason to hate you someday. I've already done enough damage.
Please don't make it worse. She was crying, now, full
on tears, shaking voice, hands ringing, like she was some
grieving widow instead of the one who lit the match.
I stood up, slowly, came around the desk, looked her

(52:37):
dead in the eyes. That's the thing with you, Lourie.
You always think it's about you, like the world revolves
around your little emotional tornado. She blinked, stunned. You blew
this house apart, and now you want to show up
like the damn martyr. Oh poor me. I made mistakes.
Please don't hurt yourself. Please don't go to jail like
this is still your story. Her lip trembled. I just no,

(52:58):
you don't speak you listen. I stepped closer, lowered my voice.
This isn't about you anymore, not your tears, not your pain,
not your screwed up excuses. This is about me, my daughter,
my life, And let me be real clear. Whatever I
choose to do from here on out, that's my business.
You don't get to weigh in. You lost that right
the second you walked out that door and into Brandon's bed.

(53:18):
Her face strained of color. She didn't answer. Then she
turned and walked swiftly away. After a minute, I reached
into my desk, pulled out the Savannah Morning News wedding notice,
folded it, and slid it into an envelope. Then I
packed the last of what i'd need. Tomorrow was the
day I wanted an early start at sunrise. I got up, showered, shaved,

(53:40):
and grabbed my stuff. I made breakfast quietly. I was
halfway through my second cup of coffee when Emily walked
in with the baby in her arms. Her eyes went
straight to the suitcase by the door. Where are you going, daddy,
she asked, voice tight. I'll be back late tonight or
early tomorrow, baby, I said, trying to sound calm. Where
she asked again, firmer this time, it's okay, I said,

(54:02):
kissing her and the baby. Everything's going to be fine.
Before she could press, I handed her the envelope I'd
sealed the night before. Do me a favor. Give this
to your mom when she gets home. She looked scared.
The baby started crying, giving me a clean break. I
slipped out the door. As I drove off. I wondered
if Emily would wait or open the letter herself. Didn't matter.
I reached into my pocket, turned off my phone, and

(54:24):
tossed it in the glove box. I didn't want to
talk to anyone, not until I was done. It's about
a four hour drive from Atlanta to Savannah. I got
there just afternoon, grabbed a greasy lunch, and checked into
a cheap motel to shower and change. I wanted to
look sharp for the wedding. Savannah in spring is muggy
and hot. The ocean breeze helped, but not much. I
put on the dark wool suit I packed, too warm

(54:46):
for the weather, but good for the occasion. Nothing flashy.
I didn't want to stand out yet. I cranked the
ac in the car, but the second I stepped out
and headed toward the cathedral, I started to sweat. I
buttoned my jacket and waited near the steps with a
few other guests, blending in. When someone asked, I said
I was with the bride's side. Not out of loyalty,
just because that half was packed easier to disappear in

(55:06):
a crowd. The church was beautiful, high ceilings, white flowers everywhere.
Cezily looked glowing as she came down the aisle on
Rufus's arm. When he walked past me, I turned my head.
He scanned the room like a guard dog. The ceremony
was full Catholic, long formal traditional. At one point, the
priest even asked the classic line, does anyone here know
why these two shouldn't be joined in marriage? I almost stood, almost,

(55:31):
but it wasn't the right time. Afterwards, everyone headed to
the country club for the reception. I hung back until
the parking lot cleared, then followed. The main dining room
was huge, long head tables in front, big round tables
for guests, dance floor in the middle. I counted sixty tables,
a full house. I slipped into a seat at an
empty table near the back, probably meant for staff or

(55:52):
distant cousins. No one questioned me. We made small talk.
Someone pointed out how expensive the whole thing looked. He
hired Pauline to kister it. A woman whispered, wide eyed.
I believed it the food was amazing. I thought, if
this is my last meal, at least it's a good one.
Dinner ended, wine glasses were cleared, Champagne came out. I
took a glass, but barely touched it, just enough to

(56:13):
steady my nerves, not cloud my head. Then it started.
Rufus tapped the mic and made some loud, proud remarks.
People laughed. Then he opened the floor for toasts. One
by one, people got up, friends, family, all saying the
same thing with different words. Then the best man asked,
anyone else want to say a few words? I stood,
I got one, I said, raising my glass. Heads turned

(56:35):
as I made my way toward the front. I kept
my tone light, smiling just enough. We've heard some great
stories today, I said into the mic, all about the past.
I'd like to say a few words about the future,
the future of mister and missus Hilton A few polite laughs,
and by future I mean kids more chuckles. I think
this couple will have lots of kids. Can't speak for cesily,

(56:56):
but I know Brandon's got no problem in that area.
Laughter stopped, fe you confused looks, then murmurs. I say
that because Brandon's already fathered at least two kids I
know of gasps. Noise spread through the room like a wave.
Missus Carlton let out a loud sigh. Rufus turned eyes
locked on me. You're John Manning, he barked. You're not invited.

(57:16):
Get off that stage. Brandon, sitting just feet from me,
had been slouched in tipsy, but when he heard my name,
he snapped up and started to rise. I grabbed Brandon's
shoulder and shoved him back into his seat. Someone turned
off the mic. Didn't matter. I taught full lecture halls.
I knew how to speak loud. I've got something to say,
I called out, voice booming. Rufus yelled again, get him

(57:38):
off that stage. A couple of guys, probably Brandon's buddies,
started pushing through the crowd toward me. I was ready.
I opened my jacket, flashed the shoulder holster, and pulled
out a three hundred and fifty seven magnum long barrel
big tool. I waved it toward the guy's charging me.
They froze, then backed off fast. Mister magnum and I
just need a minute, I said, loud and clear, keeping

(57:59):
one hand on Brandon's shoulder. His eyes were wide, face pale.
He looked like he'd swallowed a lit firecracker. Like I said, Brandon,
Hilton has at least two kids. Want a guess with who?
I turned to Rufus. One's with your second daughter, Laurie,
the others with your granddaughter Emily. Gasps, then a scream
from the bride. I looked straight at her. Yes, Cecily,

(58:21):
that's right. He knocked up your sister and your niece.
She collapsed, face in her hands, crying hard. I actually
felt bad for her. She didn't deserve this, But the
rest of her family no sympathy. I look down at Brandon.
You always do what you want, huh. Somebody else's wife,
somebody else's daughter. No shame, no consequences. Well not this time.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back,

(58:43):
and set the tool down on the podium. Then I
pulled out my bowie knife. The blade gleamed under the lights,
long curved sharp. The crowd gasped. Brandon flinched, hands up, scared, stiff. Perfect.
I yanked a few strands of hair from his head,
stuffed them into a plastic bag and held it up.
Should be enough, for a DNA test. He slumped in
his seat, a dark wet spot spreading on his pants.

(59:05):
But I wasn't done. I reached into my jacket again
and pulled out two thick envelopes. Slammed the first one
into his hands. Brandon Hilton, this is notice. You're being
sued to prove paternity for the child you made with
Lorie Carlton Manning. You're officially served. Then the second, and
this one for the child you had with Emily Manning.
Served Again. He just sat there, mouth open, too stunned

(59:27):
to speak. I leaned in quiet, Now, don't run. Georgia
child Welfare knows once the case is filed, they'll chase
you down. You'll be paying for those kids for a long,
long time. Then I turned to Rufus, still sitting there,
red faced and shaking. Congrats on the new son in law. Rufus,
real solid choice. Then I heard a scream behind me.
I spun. Brandon had lunged forward and grabbed the magnum

(59:49):
off the podium. He aimed it at me, pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing.
I didn't even blink. Don't try to shoot me in
the back, Brandon, I said, it's not real just a
prop I thought you'd like it. Wedding gift. Then I
turned and walked out, leaving the whole room and chaos.