“What do you want?” he asked, and his voice was hollow now, wrung out.

“Just — tell me what you want.”

It was the easiest question anyone had asked me in a month, and I did not have to think about the answer, because I had known it since the moment on the foyer floor when I looked up into the camera.

“A divorce,” I said.

Chapter 17 — The Convictions

Six months later, the law finished what the recording had started.