For a long time after, I was ashamed — not of what Dexter did, but of how completely I had believed him.

How could I not have seen it?

The prenup, the isolation from my own lawyer, the way he collected the details of my loneliness like a man taking inventory.

In hindsight every red flag was a bonfire.

But hindsight is a liar.

What I understand now is that Dexter did not succeed despite my caution; he succeeded because he studied exactly what my caution was made of and built a key for it.