“Where is my laptop, Daniel?” I asked again, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.

“You shouldn’t have brought your work home, Morgan,” he said.

He set his coffee cup down on the hallway table.

“Especially not when your life is falling apart.”

“That is government property,” I said, stepping closer to him. “Taking it is a federal offense.”

“I didn’t take anything,” he said, holding up his hands.

“But even if someone did, who would believe you?”

He smiled, a thin, cruel line.

“You’re an unfaithful wife, Morgan. The DNA test proves Emma isn’t mine.”

“That test is a lie, and you know it,” I said.

“The court won’t see it that way,” he replied.

He leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely at ease in his pressed gray slacks.

“A judge is going to look at your military salary, your long deployments, and your unstable lifestyle.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the quiet air of the hallway.

“And then they’ll look at your conduct.”

I looked back at the scratched brass locks on my briefcase on the floor.