“Read the sentence out loud again,” Henry said, standing near the corner of the table with his feet shoulder-width apart.

“He says he hopes I’ve built a stable, quiet life for myself since our separation,” I read, keeping my voice steady and even.

“He thinks you live alone,” Sam said, pushing up his wire-rim glasses with his middle finger.

“He calculated one person.”

“He calculated zero children,” I said.

“Why didn’t you ever go to his parents’ house and show them our birth certificates?” Lucas asked, his right shoe scuffing the table leg.

I adjusted my silver wristwatch, feeling the hard metal press into my skin.