Ever since you found out what happened between Laura and me that night twenty years ago, you clung to it like a drowning man, didn't you? You hoarded it like money. You took it out every night and polished it till the corners of the room glowed with it's splendor. It should have destroyed me, having my son hear me called "rapist," or so went the master plan. But here I am, only slightly crippled, and I propose to you that one good turn deserves another: Let YOUR son hear you called what you are--"Father." A title any other man would wear with pride...but you made it a curse. Say it and your life collapses like a house of unsent Father's Day cards. Say it and you lose everything; fortunes, titles, property, power and the son in question.
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