Before we reached the altar, my three-year-old grandson squeezed my hand and whispered, “Grandpa, she was mean to Mommy.” Then he pointed toward my future wife and pulled a USB drive from his tiny pocket—one that would soon reveal the truth she had been hiding.

I turned the laptop volume down.

Monica knocked again.

Harder.

“Victor.”

“We are late.”

I stared at the screen.

Sofia’s video had ended.

The last frame showed the corner of our kitchen.

A chair overturned.

One of Sofia’s hands visible near the floor.

Then black.

I looked at Lucas.

“Champ.”

“Yes?”

“Did Mommy get hurt badly?”

He nodded.

“She cried.”

“Did Grandma Monica hit her?”

He corrected me immediately.

“She’s not Grandma.”

That sentence landed harder than expected.

I nodded.

“You’re right.”

“Monica.”

Lucas whispered.

“She pushed Mommy.”

“Then Mommy fell.”

My stomach tightened.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes.”

PART 8