Evelyn moved to look over his shoulder, and gasped, and clutched at her throat.

I will not describe the photographs in detail; it is enough to say that they were clear, and dated, and undeniable, the kind of documentation a man who has spent his life in courtrooms recognizes instantly as proof beyond any reasonable doubt.

There was no room in them for an innocent explanation.

There was no room in them for Julian’s voice, or his charm, or his lies.

There was only the truth, in high resolution, and the truth was that my husband and his brother’s wife had been betraying us both, together, for a long time.