My father came around the chair and sat beside me.
“You trusted the man he showed you,” he said. “That is not the same as being foolish.”
“But how did I not see it?”
Rebecca’s gaze softened. “Because practiced deception doesn’t always arrive wearing a mask. Sometimes it brings soup when you’re sick. Sometimes it remembers how you take your coffee. Sometimes it waits patiently for two years.”
I closed my eyes.
Elias had brought soup when I had the flu last winter. He had sat on the floor beside the couch, rubbing my feet through a blanket while old movies played on mute. He had kissed my forehead and said, “You don’t always have to be strong with me.”
The memory hurt more than the recording.
Because some part of it had felt real.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Rebecca glanced at my father before answering. “First, you do not confront him tonight. You do not text him anything emotional. You do not answer calls until we decide what serves your interests. Second, we preserve the recording properly. Third, we review the marriage certificate, the apartment purchase documents, and any financial transfers connected to Elias. Fourth, we find out whether Brenda’s pregnancy claim is true, and whether Elias has made any written admissions.”
