I froze.
Then I walked in.
She was standing there, holding papers, her face red with anger. He was sitting across from her, pale, shaken.
“How could you do this to her?” she shouted.
He didn’t answer.
“Mom?” I said.
She turned toward me, and for a split second, I saw something soft in her expression. Then it disappeared.
“You need to sit down,” she said. “You need to know the truth.”
He looked at me, eyes full of panic.
“Please,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
My hands were shaking as I took the papers.
Emails. Messages. A report.
Dates.
Details.
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