Dagny’s eyes filled — not with sadness, I saw, but with fury and humiliation braided together.

Vaughan reached for her hand; she pulled it back as though he’d burned her.

I didn’t raise my voice.

I opened my bag, took out a single photograph — the two of them leaving the Back Bay hotel — and laid it face-up on her tray table.

“I didn’t get on this plane to scream at you,” I said to her, gently, because none of this was hers to answer for.

“I got on it because I needed to hear the whole shape of his lying with my own ears.” She drew a shaking breath.