He could not use the baby as a reason to demand access to my private medical history or force a meeting at the apartment.

One afternoon, Vance asked to see me at a neutral office with attorneys present.

I agreed, hoping that hearing him speak directly might help me understand why he’d hidden the letters.

He arrived looking exhausted, his expensive suit hanging loosely from his shoulders.

For a moment he resembled the man I’d married, before promotions and appearances became more important than the people waiting at home.

“I didn’t know you would nearly die,” he said.