“I make more money than you can imagine,” he said.

“You wouldn’t have grocery money without my salary.

You’re bluffing about a divorce.” I looked at him — this man I had once, foolishly, promised to love — and found I recognized nothing in his face but the fear of a small inconvenience becoming a large one.

He had spent three years certain that I was a thing he owned outright, and he was about to learn the size of his mistake, though not yet, and not from me.

Chapter 6 — Counsel

The door opened again, and Fallon came in with a tall woman in a charcoal suit carrying a leather case: Dorothea Strickland, the attorney who had handled my affairs for a decade.