“And I brought you into this house for one specific reason.”

“Because you wanted a family?” I asked.

“Because the trust board needed a certified public accountant to clear our quarterly tax disclosures,” Julian said, stepping right into my path.

“You were never my equal, Vivian.

You were my corporate umbrella.”

He reached into his breast pocket, took out a small black-and-white photograph, and tore it cleanly down the middle.

“Julian, stop,” I said.

He let the half showing a young man in a surgical coat drop from his fingers.