Until then, it had been a vicious family conflict—public, humiliating, even legally dangerous—but still something people might later try to call a misunderstanding. The moment Sophie stood there with tear-streaked cheeks, the lie lost all cover. It wasn’t strategy anymore. It wasn’t emotion. It was what it had always been: cruelty directed at a child.
Robert carried Sophie back to the den. I followed, but he glanced over his shoulder and said quietly, “Give me one minute.”
So I waited in the hallway and listened.
“You know how sometimes people say things because they’re angry or jealous or trying to get their way?” he asked.
Sophie sniffled. “Like when Tyler told Mrs. Keene I pushed him, but I didn’t?”
“Exactly,” Robert said. “Tonight Aunt Claire told a lie. A bad one. But it doesn’t change who you are, and it doesn’t change who I am.”
A pause.
“You’re still my real dad?”
“The realest one you could have.”
I had to cover my mouth to keep from crying.
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