By refusing his call, I stepped outside the field entirely, and in doing so I became the one thing a man like Flynn cannot tolerate or comprehend: a person over whom he had no leverage at all.

He had nothing I wanted.

Not his apology, which was worthless.

Not his money, which was now largely mine.

Not his presence, not his explanation, not his grief.

For five years I had organized some quiet portion of every day around Flynn’s moods and Flynn’s needs and Flynn’s approval, the way you do when a person holds power over your life.

And the profound, disorienting freedom of that hospital afternoon was the discovery that I no longer had to.