Not trusting anyone inside the company, he had reached out instead to the one person he believed was honest and had nothing to gain from the fraud: my wife.

On the very day of our divorce, the day the photographs were taken, Victor had picked Lucy up in his car to drive her to meet a former warehouse worker — a man willing to testify to what Ryan was doing.

She had been climbing into that car to defend my company.

And I had looked at a photograph of it and seen the confirmation of everything my worst self already wanted to believe.

At dawn I drove back to the room by the canal, and I laid the printed server logs on the wooden table beside my sleeping father, and I could barely get the words out.