The boys padded into the kitchen, wide-eyed from the shouting. Claire quickly shooed them upstairs, her voice tight, calm for their sake. When she returned, her eyes glistened, but her tone was steel. “If you can’t trust me, that’s your problem,” she said, cutting each word like glass.
Daniel’s voice grew harsher as the argument spiraled. “It’s not just this card, Claire. It’s everything. The late nights, the calls you take outside, the way you’ve been acting secretive for weeks.” He pointed toward the stairs. “Sometimes I look at Ethan, at Leo, and I wonder if they’re even mine.”