Chapter 4

I stood in our shared study, evidence spread across Jason's desk—photographs of my destroyed belongings, screenshots of text messages between Maisie and her mother Louise that I'd discovered accidentally when Maisie left her phone unlocked, and most damning of all, a recording I'd managed to capture yesterday when I'd overheard them in the guest bathroom.

"Jason, please," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just look at them. Just listen."

The recording sat between us like a live grenade. I'd been walking past the guest bathroom when I heard Maisie's laughter—not the fragile, wounded sound she used around Jason,…