“I don’t need to pass a test to deserve respect.”
Daniel reached for my hand.
“I know. And I love that about you.”
At the time, I believed him.
We married the following spring. Our daughter, Sophie, was born two years later.
For a while, I believed I had found the balance I wanted: a demanding career, a loving husband, and a home where our daughter would grow up knowing that she could become anything she worked toward.
I was wrong about the home.
The first serious cracks appeared when Arthur began offering Daniel business opportunities.
At first, they were ordinary investments. Then Daniel started attending meetings without telling me where he was going. He began receiving calls late at night. His explanations grew vague, and he became irritated whenever I asked about money.
When I asked whether we were taking on debt, he told me not to worry.
“My father knows what he’s doing,” he said. “You don’t need to turn everything into an investigation.”
