“The worst part, Dad,” she said, “was that I actually believed I deserved it.

They told me every day that I was useless, that I only survived because of your money, that no man could ever put up with me — and I started to believe it.

I thought maybe I was suffering because I was good for nothing.” I put my hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t you ever let that lie into your head again.” “Never again, Dad,” she said, and she meant it.

I do not tell this story to celebrate anyone’s ruin.