The mention of Nolan and Parker made my breath catch in my throat.

“They’re sleeping,” I said. “Don’t you dare bring them into this.”

“I’m their father, Cassandra. I am always thinking about their future.”

“And their future does not include a mother who is mentally unstable.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the cold air of the car.

“I’ve just received a very interesting file from Dr. Aris’s office,” he said.

Dr. Aris was the therapist we had seen for exactly two joint sessions three years ago, when the marriage first started to crack.

“We haven’t seen Dr. Aris in years, Gavin,” I said.

“Perhaps not,” Gavin said.

“But his medical notes from those sessions are incredibly detailed.”

“They paint a very vivid picture of your severe postpartum depression.”

“They mention your suicidal ideation, your inability to care for the twins, and your extreme paranoia.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“That is a lie,” I whispered. “I never said those things. Dr. Aris would never write that.”

“He didn’t have to,” Gavin said, his voice dropping to a dark, quiet purr.