Keisha’s expression remained perfectly pleasant and polite. “Well, Mr. Foley, your daughter Chelsea entrusted her children into Anna’s care on more than one occasion, and from the interviews we’ve done with Justin and Lyla, I know that they have never once been left with you.”

Heat flared in my dad’s eyes, his breathing growing a touch more labored. “Chelsea didn’t have the full picture. Didn’t know everything that Anna had done.”

“I’m afraid she did,” Keisha argued.

“She didn’t know this.” Dad grabbed two folders from his lawyer and slid them down the table. One landed in front of Keisha, and the other in front of Mason.

“What Mr. Foley is trying to express is his concern for someone with Ms. Foley’s record having custody of his grandchildren. I suspect the court will be concerned, as well,” Mr. Paisley explained.

I flipped open the folder, and the name at the top of the paper made everything around me freeze and my vision tunnel. The only thing I could see was Derek’s name. As blood pounded in my ears, I forced myself to read the words. It was some sort of affidavit, talking about my alleged behavior in my teen years.

Lie after lie jumped off the page. That I had pulled him into dealing, bribed him with sex. He said I had connections to major cartels, and what the police arrested me for was only the tip of the iceberg. He said I used and took him to sex parties where I wanted to have multiple partners in a single night.

I wasn’t sure why the betrayal cut as deeply as it did. Derek had already proven that his loyalty was fleeting. But why now? Why, when he had nothing to gain by spreading lies? I looked up and met my father’s gaze, saw the satisfied smirk on his face.

He was why. My father. He’d probably offered Derek money or maybe just a chance to stick it to me one more time. I was sure Dad had told Derek the types of things he wanted him to say.

Nausea swept through me at the thought that it might work. That Mason might believe these words. The lies about my sexual history were clearly an attempt to change his opinion of me.

I forced myself to look at my husband, the man whose opinion of me had come to mean far too much in such a short period of time. I braced for disdain. Instead, I saw rage. But it wasn’t directed at me—it was zeroed in on my father.

I squeezed Mason’s hand, bringing his attention to me. “Don’t let him see that it affects you.”

“You’re right.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and then took a deep breath. “Even though I want to deck him right now.”

“Get in line.”