Lorian’s fingers paused. Under the brilliant light of the crystal chandelier, his handsome face looked unusually grim. He held the bathrobe with his long, slender fingers and stood quietly at the door of the walk-in closet, gazing at his wife.

Tegan had already sat up. They locked eyes in the dim light. She repeated, “I want a divorce, Lorian.”

“Why?”

Lorian looked intently at his wife, his dignified face showing a trace of barely perceptible fatigue. “Is it because of what happened that day?