There had been stories about Julian Caldwell even when Ethan and I were married — younger, quieter, often absent, never comfortable beneath Eleanor’s gaze.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I don’t know. But two weeks before you left, Julian warned me that someone was trying to create a division inside the family. He wouldn’t explain. He only said I should question anything that arrived too neatly.”

“The photographs.”

“I thought of that later. After you were gone.” Anger stirred again, and he didn’t ask me to forgive the timing. “He avoided me afterward. Two years later, he disappeared.”

The monitor beside him beeped softly. “What are you telling me?”