At exactly 11:47 on Christmas Eve, my husband accidentally sent me a photograph of himself in a hotel bed with his mistress while I was home alone caring for our two feverish babies.

“He didn’t forbid it.”

“But?”

“He made every call cost me something afterward.”

Evelyn paused.

“What do you mean?”

“He’d punish me.”

“How?”

“Silent treatment.”

I watched Dad playing with Noah.

“Money.”

A pause.

“Sometimes he’d cancel things.”

“What things?”

“A card.”

“A car.”

“Help with the babies.”

“Anything I depended on.”

“And the physical incident?”

“Two nights ago.”

“Any others?”

I wanted to deny it.

Then I remembered Cole blocking the bedroom doorway, gripping my upper arm, taking my phone overnight, and preventing me from using the elevator “until