Then I called the woman who’d been helping me prepare for the possibility that my marriage wasn’t what it seemed.

“Proceed,” I told her.

When Daniel grabbed my wrist and demanded an explanation, I pulled away.

“Don’t touch me again.”

For the first time that morning, he looked uncertain.

And he had every reason to be.

Twenty minutes later, Daniel had convinced himself I was bluffing.

Margaret returned downstairs wearing clean clothes.

“You’re unstable!” she snapped. “How dare you ruin my dining room?”

I was sitting in the living room, documenting the redness on my cheek.

Daniel stood beside his mother.

“You owe her an apology.”

I looked up.

“No.”

His expression darkened.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’m not apologizing.”

Margaret stared at me.

Daniel laughed.

“You really think you have any power here?”

I almost smiled.

Because there was something important about my professional life the Harrington family had never bothered to understand.