But there was a faster way to knock out the foundation of her case, and he wanted to offer it to me, and he wanted me to feel entirely free to say no.

“Marry me,” he said. “A civil ceremony. Today, if you’ll do it. It gives your daughters a home the court can’t question, health insurance, my name behind them, and time — time for the truth to come out. That’s all it is. A shield.”

“And your name?” I asked. “Your reputation, everything they’re already saying—”

“My name is worth nothing,” he said, “next to the safety of three little girls. I’ve spent my whole life learning that. Let me spend some of it on this.”

I married him that afternoon, in his home library, with his legal team and Mabel as our witnesses.

It was four minutes long.