Vance noticed the photograph of Evelyn on the bedside table.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“My mother,” I said.

“Why is he carrying photographs of your mother?”

Warren remained silent, allowing me to choose what I wanted to reveal.

It occurred to me that even if the test eventually confirmed his claim, my husband had no automatic right to the private details of a painful family discovery.

I slid the photograph beneath my notebook.

“I want you to leave.”