At 2:00 a.m., My Husband Thought I Was Asleep While He Emptied Our Safe to Run Off With His Mistress. Before Leaving, He Kissed Me and Whispered, “Poor Audrey. You Never Saw This Coming.” Hours Later He Sent a Photo From the Airport. I Replied With Four Words That Made Him Call Me Immediately.

One afternoon a director named Paul Wren asked for a private meeting and spent ten minutes telling me that the optics of a federal matter would frighten clients.

“Then the clients should be more frightened of an executive who tried to leave with their counterparties’ confidence in his pocket,” I said.

“We will tell the truth in the language the law allows.

We will not decorate it.”

Paul left unhappy.

Unhappy was acceptable.

Hidden was not.

At home, small objects kept startling me.