The room in Evelyn’s office had become startlingly quiet.

She stopped the playback.

“We need to verify when and how this video was made, and what documents it refers to,” she said.

“But it’s significant.

Allison, you were right not to sign.”

For eight months I’d wondered whether I was imagining things.

I wasn’t.

And the cruelty of the divorce wasn’t separate from the documents in my folder.