A recording is different.

A recording is not a perception that can be doubted or a memory that can be discredited or a woman who can be called hysterical.

It is the man himself, in his own voice, on a date and time that cannot be argued with, saying the thing he would spend any amount of money to deny having said.

It shifts the fight off the ground where Arthur was undefeated — the ground of credibility and charm and who-do-you-believe — and onto the one ground where his entire arsenal was useless: the ground of what is simply, provably so.

Constance could not out-charm the recording.