“No,” I said.
Maya’s eyes flashed. “Robert, don’t.”
Adele lifted a small pink card. “Piper made this when she was nine. It says, ‘Please come to my birthday, Mom.'”
Piper covered her mouth.
“Fifteen years of things Dad sent you and you sent back.”
Adele picked up a school photo. “This was Shannon’s first day of school.”
Shannon stared at it. “I’ve never seen that.”
“I sent it,” I said. “It came back.”
Maya snapped, “You had no right to do this at a family event.”
Adele looked at her. “My wedding.”
That correction landed hard.
Adele picked up a school photo.
Maya’s voice shook. “Your father poisoned you.”
Adele didn’t raise her voice. “No. He protected your name long after you stopped earning it.”
Then Adele reached for my notebook.
My chest tightened. “Adele.”
She looked at me, asking without words.
I wanted to say no.
