Griffin sat quietly for a minute, letting Angela’s words sink in. The silence was agony for Angela, who sat, head down, biting her lip, waiting for his reaction. “Do you understand what I said?” she finally asked. “Rory is your son.”

“I heard you,” Griffin finally said without expression. Angela watched a small blood vessel in his neck pound beneath his skin. Draping the sheet around his waist, he stood up and walked into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him. ...