He kept his eyes fixed on the linoleum floor, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle bunched.

“Is it true?” I asked.

The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked, a heavy, metallic sound.

Outside, a dry leaf scraped against the kitchen window.

David did not answer.

“Tell her, David,” Rachel said, her hand still holding mine.

Her palm was damp now, shaking against my fingers.

“She has a right to know why you’ve been trying to force her out of this house.”

David finally raised his head.

His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them that I had not noticed before.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracked.

“I understand that you lied,” Rachel said.

“I didn’t lie,” David snapped, his voice suddenly loud in the small room.

He took a step toward the counter, grabbing the edge of the wood until his knuckles turned white.

“I was trying to protect the family name.”

“You were trying to protect yourself,” Rachel said.

I looked at my son, the boy I had raised, who had always seemed so strong and sure of himself.