But he had understood something, kneeling by Maria in that hallway, that governed everything he did afterward: that a person like Vanessa could only be defeated cleanly, permanently, and lawfully, and that any misstep on his part, any burst of undisciplined rage, any illegally obtained proof or hot-headed threat, would hand her exactly the opening she needed to slip free.

So he did not confront her when he first understood.

He went to his lawyer.

He went to the district attorney’s office.

He protected the child first, before anything else.

And only when the professionals were in place, only when the recording could be made properly and the officers could be waiting, did he sit down across from her, because he wanted her stopped by the law rather than by his own anger, wanted the case against her built so cleanly that no expensive attorney could ever take it apart.

It would have felt better, in the moment, to rage at her.