And the way he looked at her—like she was some golden trophy he’d earned. Like she made him young again. Like we were just relics of his past.

It stung. Every. Single. Time.

When my mom had surgery last year, he didn’t even visit the hospital. “I’ll send something,” he texted. But for Melissa’s birthday, he rented a rooftop bar and flew in a private chef.

That was when something in me snapped.

I heard about the party through my cousin. I wasn’t invited, of course. But I went anyway. And I didn’t go alone.

I showed up with Charles—a 59-year-old lawyer I’d met at a legal conference. Distinguished. Confident. A known figure in the city… and one of Dad’s former colleagues. He was just a friend, but he agreed to come with me.