He looked like he had swallowed something sharp. “I am sorry. Forgive me. It was not my intention to make you feel this way. I never wanted to betray your trust, believe me!”

A war raged inside me. My hands itched to throw the folder at him, to scream louder, to curse every part of this horrible truth. But somewhere, buried deep beneath my fury, was a whisper that said he meant well. I knew he did. I felt it—the genuineness in his voice.

It did not make it right. But it made it harder to hate him.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, exhausted. “I feel like...