Mark took two steps closer and held out his palm.

“Give me the phone, Mom.”

“It’s my personal property, Mark,” I said.

“Nothing in this house is your personal property until we clear up what you’ve been doing behind my back.”

He reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled my hand out of my pocket.

I didn’t pull back, but my grip loosened, and Mark took the silver flip phone from my palm.

He flipped open the plastic cover and pressed the small black buttons with his thumb.