Nicolas thought he was running this.

He thought he had set the terms — the test, the guest room, the silence — and that I was simply enduring them, a suspect awaiting a verdict.

He did not know that while he waited for a piece of paper to tell him whether to keep me, I had already decided not to keep him.

I spoke to my attorney in whispers during Leander’s night feedings.

I confirmed which accounts were mine alone.

I began, methodically, to build the exit, and I felt no guilt about the secrecy of it, because a man who threatens to put you and your newborn on the street has forfeited his claim to your transparency.