Barbara’s voice shook. “At dinner, Gordon told us you had walked away from Tyler when he was little. He said you were unstable, that you drank, and that you had not paid a cent of support.” My knees went weak. “Tyler sat there and nodded,” she continued. “He did not correct a single word. Alyssa has not spoken to him since.” I gripped the counter, staring at the boots by the door, and whispered, “None of that is true.”

“I know,” Barbara said quietly. “Alyssa found your support records in Tyler’s old email last week, every payment, every year. She also found a message from Marcie asking him to keep you away so the family story would stay tidy.” Then my doorbell rang. Through the glass stood Alyssa, alone, in a gray coat, holding a thick folder and a small paper bag. “Please open the door, Diane,” Barbara said. “She wanted to bring you something herself.”