“Please don’t look at me like I lied,” Emily whispered. Nathan took one step back, but not away from her. He looked like a man trying to understand a language he should have learned before the wedding. His hand was still raised in the air where it had been touching her shoulder. Emily pressed the robe closed with both fists. “They’re not mine the way they said,” she breathed. The room went so still the rain sounded louder. Nathan’s eyes moved from her face to the pale marks she had tried to hide, then back to the tears collecting along her lower lashes. He did not ask the question Margaret would have asked. He did not ask for proof like a judge. He only said, “Tell me.” That was when a soft knock came at the bedroom door. Emily flinched so hard Nathan saw it. From the hallway, Margaret’s voice slid through the wood, careful and cold. “Nathan? I hope you understand now.” Emily’s face emptied. Nathan turned toward the door, and the gentleness left him so completely he looked like the CEO everyone else feared. But before he could speak, Emily reached for the small overnight bag at the foot of the bed and pulled out a worn envelope, folded so many times the corners had gone soft. Her hands shook as she held it out. On the front were three names. Johnny. Paul. Lily. Nathan took it from her, and outside the door, Margaret stopped breathing loud enough to be heard. Emily whispered, “If you open that, you’ll know why I never defended myself.” Nathan slid one finger under the flap, and the first paper inside began to come free— If you don't see it, switch to Newest/All.