“And corporate?” Jessica asked quietly.
“Most of them.”
I reached into my pocket and paid the caterer’s bill that had just arrived. The black metal card caught the light. Silence fell hard and absolute.
Victoria’s wine glass trembled in her hand.
“You assumed I was poor,” I said evenly. “And you treated me like it. That was your choice.”
Mark whispered, “Dad, please.”
“Please what?” I asked gently. “Please let it slide? Please pretend I didn’t hear myself being reduced to a background problem?”
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