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.

He had been part of the scenery of my marriage.

His betrayal had used that familiarity as the key.

By lunchtime, relatives were calling.

Julian’s aunt wanted to know whether I would forgive the family if everything turned out to be a misunderstanding.

A cousin accused me of ruining Marcus’s career.

Another relative left a voicemail begging me not to involve the press.

I listened to none of them twice.

Priya documented communications that might matter and helped me silence the rest.