They Arranged Themselves Like a Panel of Judges to Accuse Me of Trying to Destroy the Family — Then I Set My Phone on the Coffee Table, Pressed Play, and Let Them Hear the Man They’d Spent a Fortune Protecting
“Make me the problem.
Again.” “You have no proof of anything,” Constance spat.
“It’s your word against all of ours.” I let myself smile, just a little, because this was the moment I had spent two months preparing for.
“No, Constance,” I said.
“It’s your word against a recording.
And against about forty pages of documents.
Would you like to hear the recording first?”
Chapter 9 — The Recording
