Marcus’s face hardened.
“They don’t prove anything.”
“Then let Mom read them.”
He walked toward me. Marcus moved to block him, and without thinking, I stepped between them. It was the first time in years I had stood between my husband and my son.
“Move,” I said.
Marcus stared at me.
“Liza.”
“Move.”
He hesitated, then he stepped aside.
Andrew placed the phone in my hands. The messages were dated the night of his birthday. The first one had arrived 18 minutes after he left the house.
“Don’t come back tonight.”
Another followed less than a minute later.
“Your mother deserves one peaceful day.”
I frowned.
Then I kept reading.
“She spends all her time defending you.”
“She’s exhausted.”
My hands began to shake.
The next message nearly made me drop the phone.
“If you really love her, disappear.”
A sound escaped my throat that didn’t feel human.
