Lawrence nods. “I struggled as a child, but differently than my sons. My father died young, leaving us broke, and my mother worked two jobs. In high school, I was offered a scholarship to an elite prep school. The experience opened many doors, but also left me feeling caught between worlds.” He clears his throat. “I’ve always felt like an imposter. At Groton. At Columbia. Even in my current life. Incidentally, I married an heiress from the Upper East Side. At my own wedding, I wasn’t sure if I should walk down the aisle or serve our guests canapés.”

Scattered laughs. Lawrence is a master, selling himself without selling at all.

Anderson looks annoyed. “Relevance?”

“We’re moving on.” DeFiore gestures to Lawrence. “What was it like when Cassie came to live with you? How did her presence affect your family?”

“We welcomed Cassie with the best of intentions. Perhaps, in retrospect, we acted impulsively. But she was bereft, a little girl in a heartbreaking situation. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize how fragile she was or how much she needed. Nor did we anticipate the ways she’d disrupt our home. This wasn’t her fault, of course. She was a child, and it was a lot of upheaval.”

“Can you characterize her relationship with the defendant?” DeFiore asks.

“They were so close in age and so closely tied we called them ‘the twins.’ Over time, though, Billy’s devotion to Cassie made him too dependent on her, which confirmed that our decision to send him to boarding school was correct. Being away enabled him to separate from Cassie and make other friends. Same with Princeton. For the first two years, Billy thrived. Then he met Diana. Right away, I saw she was needy and unstable, a bit similar to his sister. Billy already had so many pressures that Eleanor and I feared Diana would take advantage of him.”

“Mr. Quinn.” DeFiore pauses. “Lawrence.” His tone is engaging, affable, as if he and Lawrence are terrific friends. Knowing what DeFiore is capable of, I study my hands, unable to watch. “Diana testified that she saw you kissing Cassie before dinner in November.”

“That is not true.” Lawrence is adamant. “It did not happen.”

“Then why would Diana say it did, Lawrence?”

Lawrence sighs. “What Diana saw was Cassie trying to kiss me. I was fending her off.”

What? The world drains of sound. My ears ring with white noise. And yet, it makes perfect sense. I think, deep down, I always suspected this was coming. Someday, Lawrence would forsake me.

“Can you elaborate?”