“I found the printed receipt from the commercial cleaning service.

Four hundred dollars a month, billed directly to Sylvia Donnelly since November.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his hands tightening on his bag.

“Rachel, I was overwhelmed.”

“Your mother paid for a cleaning crew so you could pretend you were scrubbing floors and doing laundry while I took care of June and ran back and forth to my mother’s house,” I said.

My voice was quiet, flat, and completely without inflection.