I have thought about that assumption a great deal, because it was not stupid, and Flynn was not a stupid man.

It was, in its way, a reasonable reading of the surface facts.

I had left my career.

I did not manage our money; I had let him handle all of it, the way you do when you trust someone.

I wore the clothes he liked and hosted the dinners his position required and made myself, deliberately, into a smooth and frictionless support for his ambition, because that was what I believed a good marriage asked of me.

From the outside, I looked exactly like what he took me for: a woman who had folded herself into her husband’s life until there was nothing left of her own.