POV: David Wilson

I watched Evans from across the foyer of the mansion. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week. His tie was loose, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was gripping his phone so hard his knuckles were white. He was a mess.

In the Wilson family, we are taught from birth that weakness is a choice. Evans was choosing to be weak. He was choosing to let a woman like Valarie pull his strings, and he was choosing to hide a freak show like Nancy in the basement. It was disgraceful.

I checked my watch—a custom Patek Philippe that cost more than most people’s...