Three transfers out of our home-equity line of credit, into an account I did not recognize.

And then, chasing that account, a set of payments to a company called Redpoint Consulting, which I was apparently supposed to understand was Damon’s.

Except Redpoint was not his employer.

It was a limited liability company, registered just four months earlier, to his brother.

To Wade.

By the time the sun came up, I had copied every statement, every contract, every transaction into an encrypted folder, and I had stopped being a frightened woman in a gray sweater.

I was something my husband had forgotten I could be.