I had checked my life insurance arrangements.

I had reviewed, line by line, the trusts I had created for my children — for Ben, and for Ava and Lily — and I had made certain that not one dollar of what belonged to them could ever be reached by the man standing frozen beside the dance floor.

“My house is secure,” I said.

“My savings are mine.

My investments are mine.

The trusts are exactly where they have always been, and they are untouchable.” I let each fact land in the silent room.