I laid it out flat, the way you present to a board that has already lost the vote and doesn’t know it yet.

I had the security footage.

I had two years of financial statements I’d spent the night reconstructing.

I had a forensic accountant on retainer as of nine that morning and a family-law attorney as of ten.

“You can make this fast and dignified,” I said, “or you can make it slow and public, but you cannot make it disappear, because I stopped believing you on Tuesday night, and a woman who has stopped believing you is the one thing your charm was never built to handle.” The lawyer started to speak.

I looked at him until he stopped.