A woman stepped past him onto the foyer rug, pulling a beige leather overnight bag on small silver wheels.

Mark reached up with his right hand, loosened the knot of his navy silk tie, and undid his top collar button.

He dropped his heavy leather briefcase onto the dark wooden bench near the closet door.

“This is Vanessa,” Mark said, his eyes fixed on the crown molding two inches above my head.

“We need to sit down right now, Claire, because I’m ending our marriage today,” he said.

Vanessa set her leather handbag on the entryway table next to my mail tray.