“Please,” he repeated. “I can explain.”
Patricia’s voice was ice cold.
“Explain what? Why you’re forcing your wife to exercise six weeks after surgery? Or why you follow her in your car and honk when she slows down?”
Carter turned toward me.
His eyes were wide.
“Did you record this?”
Before I could answer, Patricia said:
“No.”
She paused.
“Your daughter did.”
I felt my breath catch.
Lily.
Patricia held up the phone.
“She sent me everything. Videos of you following her mother. Recordings of what you said. Pictures you took to shame her.”
Carter’s face went pale.
“She’s fifteen. She doesn’t understand.”
Patricia took a step toward him.
“She understands enough to know her mother needed help.”
Carter looked around nervously.
“Mom, don’t send this to anyone. I’ll change. I made a mistake.”
Patricia stared at him.
“A mistake?”
He lowered his voice.
