Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

When asked why I had not suspected him sooner, I explained that trust is not a technical failure.

It was the premise of our marriage.

Julian had used it to make ordinary safeguards seem unnecessary.

I had no perfect memory of the lost hours, and I did not pretend otherwise.

The most difficult moment came when the recording was played.

The courtroom speakers carried Marcus’s voice: “She’s out cold again.” Then Julian answered.

He sounded irritated, impatient, practical.

The same tone he used to complain about delayed shipments.