Nathan’s photograph appeared beside words he couldn’t control. He tried at once to shape the narrative. Through his lawyer, he called the allegations “false, defamatory, and personally motivated.”

He described me as “my estranged wife” — though we hadn’t been estranged until I opened his desk.

That afternoon I returned home with Daniel and two officers to collect my belongings. Nathan was waiting, beneath the chandelier we’d bought in Milan, his suit immaculate, his expression not.

“You brought police into my house?”

“Our house.”

His gaze dropped to my bare hand. “You took off your ring.”