That was the moment I realized something.
Connor had spent years believing that the world operated the same way our family did.
He believed that if he smiled confidently enough, told a convincing story, and made me look unreasonable, everyone would automatically take his side.
But Richard Barlo wasn’t my father.
And this wasn’t our dinner table.
Olivia had barely moved.
She stood beside Connor, still wearing her wedding dress, staring at the screen as if she were looking at a stranger.
Finally, she turned toward him.
“Is this true?”
Connor reached for her hand.
“Baby, don’t listen to him. He’s always hated me.”
“I’m asking you a question.”
“I built those projects. Derek just helped me with some technical things.”
I couldn’t believe he was still doing it.
Even with the evidence displayed behind him, he couldn’t admit what he’d done.
