He had signed it without bothering to read it carefully, I was certain, because he had assumed, the way men like Ethan assume, that a prenup was a thing that existed to protect wealthy husbands from desperate, grasping wives.

He had signed it with a little smirk, probably, feeling generous, feeling like the man with the money and the power doing the sensible thing.

He had never once considered the possibility that in our marriage, the person with more to lose, the person with the house and the career and the assets that needed protecting, was me.

He had signed a document shielding my property from him, believing he was signing a document shielding his property from me, and he had never learned the difference, because he had never bothered to read what he was signing or to understand who he had actually married.

That signature, made in arrogance and ignorance, was about to cost him everything he thought was his.