“No,” my father replied.
I looked at him.
He gave me a small, humorless smile. “It was a wedding gift, yes. But titled through Brooks Family Holdings. You and Dominic were authorized drivers. Nothing more.”
For the first time that day, warmth flickered in my chest.
Dominic had bragged about that SUV constantly.
He called it proof that he had “leveled up.”
In reality, he had been borrowing my father’s car.
Marianne continued. “And VanceTech.”
At the name, I closed my eyes.
Dominic’s company.
His shining trophy. His obsession. His justification for missed dinners, cold silences, and every insult that began with, “You wouldn’t understand business pressure.”
“What about it?” I asked.
My father’s expression did not change.
“Dominic has a board meeting Monday morning. He believes they’re finalizing Series B funding.”
“They are.”
“They were.”
I sat straighter, pain slicing across my stomach. “Dad.”
He held up one hand. “Before you argue, understand something. I did not pull funding because he hurt you. I pulled it because he is a liability. What he did today revealed a pattern. We reviewed financials this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” I echoed.
Marianne’s mouth tightened. “Your father’s people have been watching VanceTech quietly for months.”
My throat went dry.
“You knew something was wrong?”
My father looked out toward the lake.
“I suspected Dominic was using proximity to our family to secure commitments he had no ability to honor.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“You were pregnant. You defended him whenever I raised concerns.” His voice softened. “And I thought, foolishly, that if I gave him enough rope, he would either climb or hang himself.”
The room went still.
“What did he do?” I asked.
Marianne slid a document toward me. “He has represented to investors that Brooks Global is preparing a strategic acquisition of VanceTech within eighteen months.”
I stared at the page.
“That’s a lie.”
“Yes.”
“I never said that.”
“No one at Brooks Global said that.”
The words blurred.
Dominic had not just used my last name. He had built a fantasy around it.
“He told them my father was buying his company?”
“Not directly,” Marianne said. “He was careful. Suggestive language. Private dinners. Implied backing. Enough to create belief without creating a signed statement.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“He also claimed the SUV and your apartment were purchased from his compensation package to demonstrate executive stability.”
A strange calm settled over me.
The same calm I had felt on the bus.
Dominic had left me outside a hospital with bus fare because, in his mind, I no longer served the image he was selling. A recovering wife and a newborn did not fit into his lunch reservation, his investor pitch, his fantasy of himself.
So he discarded us.