something close to peace.
Not revenge.
Not satisfaction.
Certainty.
At eleven o’clock we drove to the house.
Benjamin opened the door before I reached it.
He looked exhausted.
Good.
Behind him, Margot sat at the dining table crying.
The children were asleep.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“Catherine.”
I walked past him.
Sandra followed.
The moment Benjamin saw the legal briefcase, his face changed.
“What is this?”
“My attorney.”
His confidence vanished.
Margot looked confused.
Benjamin wasn’t.
He remembered.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Like someone waking from
