At first, he denied everything.
Then he said I had misunderstood.
Then he said his mother had been joking.
Finally, when I explained that the recording contained his exact words about the marriage, he looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Not shame.
Not regret.
Anger.
“You recorded a private conversation?”
“It was accidental.”
“You had no right to listen to that.”
“I was under the bed in the room where you were discussing how to take my property.”
“You don’t understand the financial arrangements.”
“Then explain them.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked toward his solicitor.
That was the moment I stopped waiting for an explanation that would make him the man I thought I’d married.
He wasn’t going to tell me the truth because the truth would help me.
He would tell me whatever he thought might still work.
When I left the office, my hands were shaking. I sat in my car for twenty minutes before I could drive.
