“You knew he was alive this whole time?” I asked.

“He works twenty miles away at St.

Jude Memorial Hospital,” Julian said, his voice flat and dismissive.

“He makes eighty-four thousand dollars a year as an attending physician.

Why would I trade an eight-million-dollar family endowment for a father who lives in a rented duplex?”

“You let your mother commit perjury so you could claim a trust fund,” I said.

“My mother protected our standing in this county,” Julian said, slamming the trunk lid with a sharp metallic clack.