“Do you have any idea how many of my clients were in that room?

How many people I know?” Ethan looked at him without flinching.

“You’re more upset about looking bad in front of strangers,” he said, “than about having been gone my whole life.” Marcus wheeled toward me.

“You put these poisonous ideas in his head, Audrey.” And for the first time in eighteen years, I did not defend myself.

I did not explain, or soothe, or shrink.

I reached into my bag and took out a thick accordion folder I had been quietly assembling for months, and I set it on the table between us.