I Arrived at My Beach House to Find It Under Construction. By Morning, They Were Knocking at 6 a.m.

to fifteen thousand. I refused again.

The trial date was set.

Five weeks later, I sat in a courthouse that smelled of dampness and old paper. Matthew was already there when Gregory and I entered—thinner, grayer, with deep dark circles under his eyes. He was with a young lawyer in an ill-fitting suit.

Our eyes met for a second. In his, I saw something continue reading …