Everything he had believed himself to be — a betrayed husband, a victim, a man owed an apology — evaporated in the time it took a four-year-old to look up at her mother, and what was left standing at that low window was the actual truth of him, which was a coward who had believed a lie because the lie was more comfortable than the work of loving someone.

“Are you here because you need legal help — or are you spying on vulnerable families?” said a low voice behind him.

He turned.

The silver-haired man from the cropped photograph stood on the concrete steps.

Chapter 13 — The Attorney

“You’re the man she left me for,” Desmond said through his teeth.