So I let him go that night.But then found out two days later (from a casual question I asked mom) that he owned a small cabin fifteen miles out of town, deep in the woods, a private lair on a small stream that was almost impossible to find without a map. Driving out to scout the location I knew immediately it was where he took my mom. That this one room cabin, with a washroom and small open kitchen, but dominated by a queen sized bed that sat proudly in the center of the room, was where my mother lay back and opened her legs and let another man defile her.I wanted to burn the shack down. Instead, I installed one of my wireless, pinhole cameras before I left. Right next to the bed.I continued to wait, and then, finally, during dinner, on Sunday, July 23rd I heard dad tell mom that he'd be going to Richmond on the following Wednesday, that he even might have to stay overnight. At ten-thirty seven that night, while my father was in the shower, my mother sent an e-mail to her boss, it. If I had been, I would have gone through with the wedding as we had it planned. But I ain't! And there was no way I was going to marry a bitch who'd been shagging other guys behind my back. And I definitely ain't bringing up some other guy's brat as my own. So you see we've got nothing to talk about." Hold on a minute please, Mo. Young Maureen is very ill with leukaemia and she needs a bone marrow transplant pronto." So, what the fuck has that got to do with me? I can't help the kid; we're not related in the slightest," I blustered. I was sorry to hear about the child's illness, but there was fuck all I could do about it."Mo, Listen to me for a few minutes, will you? I know that all those tests you had done apparently proved that you aren't the father of Maureen. Oh notice the name Sarah gave her; it was the closest to Maurice that she could come up with. But leaving that aside, don't it seem just a little strange to you that with her child's life at stake, Sarah would still insist.
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