Faye and Arlo spent four hours in the hospital cafeteria proving what I had half-known for years and never let myself say.

“Every piece of equity in that apartment,” Faye said, adjusting her glasses, “the furniture, the artwork, the rugs, the grand piano in the foyer — all of it was bought with your documented, pre-marital funds.

Ian’s financial contribution across five years amounts to the cable bill and the occasional bag of groceries.” She let that sit.

“Legally, Dara, almost none of it is his.”

Chapter 13 — The Order

By mid-morning Faye had moved fast enough to secure an emergency, ex-parte protective order from a family court judge.