The guests around us murmured, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding drama. The Lancaster gala had just turned into the social event of the season, and everyone was eager to witness the spectacle.

David cleared his throat, trying to reassert some semblance of control. “Evelyn, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, a note of accusation in his voice.

I met his gaze steadily. “You didn’t want to know, David,” I said. “When I left, you were done with me. I had to make a life for myself, for Alex. And we’ve done just fine.”