I longed to damage Andrew.
Not because I longed revenge against Ruth or Frank.
I would open it because Victor had entrusted me with something, and because the agreement presented in court had proven that silence was no longer protecting anyone.
At nine o’clock, I called Eleanor Vance.
“Mara.”
Her voice carried the calm precision I recalled from Victor’s memorial service.
“Eleanor, I’m sorry to call so early.”
“You are not sorry.”
“No.”
“Then you are frightened.”
“Yes.”
“That is more honest.”
“Did the court hearing occur?”
“It did.”
“And
