I looked around my small kitchen — Wyatt’s unfinished homework on the counter, Emmett’s sneakers by the door. The most valuable parts of my life had never appeared on any financial statement.

“You showed up with three attorneys and asked a judge to take my children from their home,” I said.

“I didn’t realize it would turn this ugly.”

“It turned ugly because you made it ugly.”

He exhaled. “So what do you want from me now?”

“Honesty. With the court, with the boys, and with yourself.”