Courtney’s eyes widened.
Patricia went very still.
Rebecca glanced at me.
That was not in the folder.
Not officially.
Not yet.
My mother said nothing.
I took one step toward her.
“You thought I didn’t know?”
Patricia’s face became marble.
“I did what was necessary.”
“For whom?”
“For this family.”
“You mean for Courtney.”
Courtney bristled. “Don’t drag me into your failed marriage.”
I turned to her.
“You were already in it.”
Her expression changed.
A flicker.
Tiny, but there.
And suddenly I knew.
I had suspected.
But I had not known.
My ex-husband, Daniel, had become strangely confident during the divorce. He knew things he should not have known. Dates. Account names. Private arguments. Old insecurities. He had smiled across the mediation table like someone had handed him a map of every soft place in me.
I looked at Courtney.
“What did you give him?”
“Nothing.”
Too fast.
My mother said, “Madeline.”
“What did you give Daniel?”
Courtney’s mouth twisted.
“Oh my God. You really do think every bad thing in your life is someone else’s fault.”
Rebecca opened her briefcase. “Ms. Courtney, I recommend you stop speaking.”
Courtney ignored her.