He had built it.

And I sat with my legal team, reading my husband of ten years plan his crimes in casual, confident text messages, and I felt the last piece of the man I thought I had married quietly dissolve.

But the worst of what that laptop held, I had not yet reached.

Chapter 11 — The Text Thread

The worst thing on that laptop was a short exchange of text messages, sent on the night I was beaten.

I am going to reproduce it, though it sickens me, because it is the one thing that removes any possibility of mistaking what my husband was.