We hung up, and the room went still again except for the faraway hum of traffic on Fifth Avenue.

A chime sounded from the nightstand as a text flashed onto the screen.

The sender’s name read Spencer.

I picked up the phone and opened the message.

‘I’m sitting in the empty townhouse,’ the message said.

‘My mother resigned from the executive board twenty minutes ago.

I know I can’t undo the lab reports or the years we lost.

I’m sorry for what I let my mother do to you.’