Dad raised his glass higher. “You’re a brave man, Steven. Most men wouldn’t go through with this after learning the truth.”
Steven frowned. “What truth?”
That question told Dad everything he wanted to know.
“She had a baby at nineteen,” he said. “A boy. She gave him up for adoption so she could leave for college and earn that impressive degree.”
Shock moved through the room like a draft. Steven’s parents sat rigid at the head table, their faces flushed. I could not bring myself to look at my new husband.
Dad had reduced the hardest decision of my life to an accusation. At nineteen, I had no partner, stable income, or home of my own. I loved my son enough to recognize what I could not provide. Mom and Grandma helped me place him with a family who had waited years for a child. I carried the grief quietly, telling myself that silence was easier than risking someone’s judgment.
Only Mom and Grandma were supposed to know.
I had wanted to tell Steven many times, but fear always stopped me. Now the truth belonged to an entire ballroom before it had ever belonged to my husband.
I sank into my chair, trembling.
Steven slowly stood. He looked at me, then at Dad.
“Richard,” he said evenly, “did you come here to protect me—or to punish Lisa?”
The room fell completely silent. My father’s confident expression faltered, and Steven reached for my hand.
