I agreed to meet him the next afternoon in the conference room of my attorney’s office in downtown Austin, on ground that was entirely mine.

I walked in wearing a tailored white blazer, my hair pulled back, carrying a slim leather folder I did not actually need, because I had learned that people are steadied by the sight of a woman holding a folder.

I was not angry, and I did not look angry.

I looked calm, and organized, and finished — and I watched that calm unnerve my husband far more than any amount of shouting could have.

Rage he knew how to answer.

Rage he could have worked with.