I watched my mother-in-law’s warm smile vanish from her face in an instant.

I watched my father slowly set down his napkin, his brow furrowing into a deep and dangerous scowl.

And the recording continued, relentless, filling the room.

“Of course I hate her.

I barely touch her anymore.

Just wait.

I’ll divorce her, and then I’ll marry you.” And then, into the dead silence of that family dinner, came the unmistakable sound of a kiss, followed by the light, careless giggle of the woman on the other end, a giggle that several people at that table recognized, because it belonged to Chloe, Julian’s twenty-four-year-old junior associate, whom they had all met at his office holiday party.

I did not need to say a single word of accusation.