HE BROUGHT HIS MISTRESS HOME—THEN LEFT HIS PREGNANT WIFE ON THE STAIRS FOR ELEVEN MINUTES

Nia spread the bank statements across her conference table. She had taped the torn envelope note to a sheet of paper so nobody would lose it.

"Your signature is on the joint account," she said. "Alex could withdraw money. That doesn't mean it should disappear from the property accounting. We need the full records."

"He said he rented an apartment."

"He did. He also paid for a florist, a caterer, and this."

She pointed to a charge from Hartwell Bridal and Events. The invoice description read private celebration, nonrefundable deposit. Alex had used money from our emergency savings to reserve a reception for a marriage he hadn't bothered to end.

"I want to put all of this online," I said.

"Don't."

"People think he abandoned me because I was difficult. His mother practically said it at the party."

Nia closed the folder. "You can be angry. You can't treat the internet like a judge."

I went home and did exactly what she'd told me not to do.

I posted a screenshot of Paige's sonogram next to the wedding invitation, with the name and clinic partly visible. My caption was mean. Not funny-mean. The kind of sentence you write when you want a stranger to feel as small as you do.

Within an hour, coworkers were commenting. Someone identified the clinic. People I hadn't spoken to since high school were calling Paige names. She received messages about her baby that no pregnant woman should receive.

I took the post down. It was already saved and shared.

Laura came to my apartment and set my phone facedown.

"That wasn't okay," she said.

"She came into my hospital room."

"I know. Both things can be true."

I hated her for about twenty seconds. Then I started crying and couldn't stop.

That evening Alex's attorney sent Nia a screenshot and a threat to seek restrictions on direct contact. Nia didn't scold me. The silence was worse.

There was one other envelope on the table. It came from the building's property manager. After Nia's preservation request, he had saved the entryway surveillance video and the digital door log from the night I fell.

The camera didn't cover the upper stairs. It showed Alex and Paige entering at 9:03 p.m. It showed the front door opening again at 9:27. It showed their car leaving before the ambulance arrived.

Nia played it twice.

At 9:18, through the gap beside the stairs, a handful of white pages appeared at floor level. The next visible movement was Alex coming down the steps.

At 9:29, Mr. Salazar entered through the half-open door.

"Where's the sound?" I asked.

"There isn't any."

"Then it doesn't prove what he did."

"It proves what they told the police isn't the whole story."

She paused the video on Alex's face as he walked out.