He marched to the dresser and snatched up a thick envelope. He threw it at me. It struck my chest, the corners sharp, before spilling its contents onto the bed.
Photographs. Grainy, blurry photos of me. Me having coffee. Me walking out of a building. And in every single one of them, a man was nearby. A tall, indistinct figure with his back turned or his face obscured by shadows.
I stared at the images, my mind racing.
"Who is he?" George demanded, looming over me. "Tell me his name!"
I picked up a photo, my hands shaking. "I… I don't know."
"Don't lie to me!"
"I'm not lying!" I cried, looking closer at the stranger in the picture. "I’ve never seen this man in my life, George! He’s just… he’s just some random person walking by! I don't know who he is!"
"You expect me to believe that?" George scoffed. "You expect me to believe you don't know the man you were sleeping with? The man who fathered that bastard?"
"The baby?" My breath hitched. "Do you really expect me to believe that child wasn't yours?"
"Of course it wasn't mine!" George yelled. "If it weren't for Donna, I would be raising another man's mistake right now!"
"Donna?"
The name was a slap in the face.