Despite the pain in my heart, there was a part of me that was relieved. The truth was out now, and I could deal with it head-on. No more pretending or plastering smiles on my face. Alan had crossed a line—no, he had obliterated it. And now he would face the consequences.
I spent the night at a friend’s house in Houston, unable to face returning to the ranch where my memories of Margaret made everything feel more difficult. I didn’t sleep much, my mind restless as I prepared for the next steps. By morning, the bruise on my cheek had darkened, a stark reminder of just how far Alan was willing to go.
Brian arrived mid-morning, punctual as always. He was older but still had the same fiery eyes that intimidated many an opponent in court. When I opened the door, he looked at my cheek and shook his head. “Looks like you’ve had quite the evening, Clifford.”
