Then I went to Mr. Henderson.
He opened the folder and went still.
“Did you draft this?” I demanded.
“A preliminary version,” he said. “Your husband said this was already being discussed.”
“It wasn’t.”
His face changed. “Then nothing moves forward.”
“Did you draft this?”
“I need that in writing.”
“Your husband cannot consent for you.”
“Write it.”
He did.
***
Two days later, Christopher found me at the kitchen table with the folder, the letter, and a notebook full of dates.
“You’re building a case?”
“I need that in writing.”
“I’m building a record.”
“Please come to Holly’s Sunday lunch.”
“No.”
“She needs to hear this calmly.”
“She needed to hear no. She’s not entitled to my baby.”
“Marie, don’t make it public.”
I looked at the folder. “You already did. You just didn’t invite me.”
He swallowed.
“I’ll come,” I said. “But if you lie again, I won’t protect you from the truth.”
“I’m building a record.”
