My lawyer had been clear with me: do the legal work first, in silence, completely, and let the announcement be the last step and not the first — because a woman who announces her intentions gives a man like Trent time to hide money, drain accounts, lawyer up, and turn the story around.

So I gave him no time.

By the moment he heard the word divorce from the DJ’s speakers, there was nothing left for him to do about it but go inside and read the notice on the counter.

The spectacle was the flourish.

The real work had been done days earlier, in a lawyer’s office, in the dark, by the quiet woman he thought he had emptied out.

I lowered the microphone.