He looked up as I approached the door. “Where are you going?” he choked, his arrogance gone.

“I’m leaving,” I said. “I’m staying somewhere secure. My attorney, Vanessa, is your sole point of contact now. I’d read the protective order in that stack before you even think about contacting me.”

“You can’t just leave!” he sputtered, looking to his boss, who was already putting on his coat. “We have guests! You’re the host!”

“No, Jason,” I said, opening the front door. “You have guests. I financed the food and cleaned the house. You’re on your own now.”

His father — a quiet man who’d enabled him his whole life — stepped forward weakly. “Elena, please, be reasonable. You can’t throw away a marriage over one bad night.

We can work this out.”