Daniel’s parents stood on my porch, his father gripping his hat, his mother holding her purse with both hands. Neither of them was smiling. Daniel shot up so fast his knee hit the coffee table. “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” His mother glanced at Vanessa, then at the overnight bag by the sofa. “Your wife called us,” she said quietly. “She said it was about your marriage.”

I let them in and closed the door. Owen, who had barely spoken all evening, finally stood up. He pulled out his phone, and his hand was steady. “Before anyone says a word, I think everyone should see what I found on Vanessa’s laptop three months ago.” Vanessa’s face went white. Daniel whispered, “Owen, don’t.” Owen ignored him and handed the phone to Daniel’s mother. She looked at the screen and began to read the first message aloud.