He Married a Forensic Accountant and Decided Fraud Was a Good Hobby. He Forgot Who My Father Was

Priscilla called me, screaming, the week it all came down.

“You’re ruining my son!”

“No,” I said.

“I’ve just stopped protecting him from himself.

There’s a difference, and you should sit with it.”

That sentence was the truest thing I said in the whole ordeal, and it took me a long time to earn the right to say it.

Because for years I had been protecting Rowan from himself, without ever calling it that.

When he was careless at work, I proofread his emails.