“You forged a state hospital certificate,” I said.

“You kept those fake papers locked up in your stuck archive cabinet, and you lied to my face about a trust fund.”

The room fell completely silent.

A wooden grandfather clock ticked off the seconds in the far corner.

“Your mother insisted on absolute, total, unbending discretion,” Arthur said quietly.

“She came into my office the morning after you had the baby.

She said the congregation would throw you both out into the street.”