“Because you told me to,” she yelled back.

The supervisor turned his eyes from Vanessa back to Mark.

“Jingling your keys isn’t going to change what’s printed in these text messages, sir,” the captain said.

Mark’s hands were pressed behind his back.

“This is a civil misunderstanding, captain,” Mark said, his voice dropping into the smooth tone he had used on car lots for thirty years.

“Diane and I have a daughter together.”

“I know about your daughter,” the supervisor said.