DeFiore points to the screenshot. “Does this text refer to Billy’s same fear?” Using a Sharpie, he circles you can’t tell anyone. “That you will tell people he’s addicted to porn and unable to maintain an erection during sexual activity?”

“Yes,” Diana says.

“Just to be clear, Cassie. On March 24, my client was enraged about his impotence, correct?” DeFiore’s eyes widen. “Excuse me. Cassie is Billy’s sister. I apologize for the mistake, Ms. Holly. Again, to be clear: my client was afraid you would reveal his secret, correct?”

I freeze. This was no mistake. DeFiore intentionally mixed up our names. But why? Suddenly, I’m terrified.

“Yes,” Diana says. But her eyes are wide; she’s terrified too.

“Okay, new topic, Ms. Holly.” DeFiore smiles sheepishly. But where someone else might see embarrassment, I see bloodlust. I remember when I pissed him off, how he bared his teeth then ripped into my throat. He’s about to rip into Diana, who’s aware it’s coming and yet leaving herself open.

“Ms. Holly, you testified that Billy’s sister, Cassie, made everyone in the Quinn family tense. Can you explain what you meant?”

Hearing my name again, I gasp. The air is too shallow; I can’t catch my breath.

“Cassie is moody,” Diana says. “She runs hot and cold.”

“You also stated that you believe Billy’s behavior was your fault. That he got angry because of you. What did you mean by this statement?”

“I meant he got angry because I knew his secret.”

“I don’t understand. You’re saying Billy got angry on March 24 because you knew he was addicted to porn? Or because he was impotent? Or because of something else entirely?”

“I don’t know . . .” Diana falters. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Okay, no worries,” DeFiore tells her casually. “So, to restate: Billy got angry at you because he was impotent, and he was afraid you would tell people. Is this statement correct?”

Anderson objects. “Asked and answered!”

McKay sustains. “Get to the point, Counselor.”

“Sure.” DeFiore is keen to comply. “My client has a secret. But he is not addicted to pornographic videos, is he, Ms. Holly? Nor is he impotent. Nor does he need porn to perform sexually. Does he, Ms. Holly?”

Seeing Diana wince, I have to close my eyes.

“No,” I hear her say softly.

“Miss Holly, you deceived the court when you made these claims, didn’t you?”

Silence. The judge requests an answer. “Remember you are under oath.” His sharpness is jarring. I open my eyes. Diana is crumpled in her seat.

“Billy has several secrets,” she says, and it’s clear she’s starting to break.

“But which secret, specifically, made him angry? And which secret, specifically, was he afraid you might tell people?”

More silence.

“I’ll ask again. Billy Quinn does have a secret, correct? But it’s not porn, is it?”