“Father,” he repeated calmly,
“I rehearsed this for years.”
A few people shifted in their seats.
They didn’t understand yet.
But I did.
I felt it in my bones—
This wasn’t just a speech.
This was a reckoning.
“When I was born,” my son continued,
“you decided my life wasn’t worth living.”
A murmur spread through the audience.
Warren’s smile faded—just slightly.
“I don’t remember that day,” my son said,
“but I’ve lived every day after it.”
I felt my throat tighten.
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