My name is Jonathan Clark. At thirty-two, I believed trust was the bedrock of any meaningful relationship. I was a senior project manager at a Chicago software firm, pulling a solid six-figure salary that afforded me a comfortable life in a Lincoln Park condo.

It was the American dream, polished to a perfect shine. I was about to marry Meghan Davis, the woman I thought was my soulmate, and my relationship with my father, Robert Clark, was everything a son could want. Continues…