My thumb hovered over Sarah’s name. She’d sent ten messages in the last hour. The first one made my blood freeze. Kenneth, we need to talk. Don’t come to the house.

I scrolled down, my jaw tightening with each message. The words blurred together until one text, sent thirty minutes ago, snapped into razor-sharp focus: I’m marrying your brother tomorrow. Don’t show up. Your kids will have a new father.