In his mind, everything I did revolved around him: I had loved him, then I had been wounded by him, and now, surely, I hated him, and this, all of this, was the expression of that hatred.

It was the only framework he had for understanding a woman.

And it was completely wrong.

Because the thing that was destroying Marcus was not my hatred.

It was my professionalism.

It was that I had built, in the years since he threw me away, an identity that had nothing to do with him at all, an identity as a person of rigor and duty and skill, for whom the discovery of financial crime triggered not a passion but a procedure.

When I said this is compliance, I was telling him the one truth he was unable to accept: that he was not the center of my emotional life, that his downfall was not my revenge, that I was not, in bringing him to justice, thinking about our marriage at all.