I never told my in-laws that my father is the Chief Justice. I spent the entire day cooking Christmas dinner for the family, only to have my mother-in-law make me eat while standing in the kitchen.

The color left David’s face.

Sylvia whispered:

“Who is he?”

David ignored her.

“Sir, I don’t know what Anna has told you about me—”

“My daughter has told me almost nothing about you.”

That was true.

Painfully true.

I had hidden so much.

The insults.

The financial control.

The way Sylvia treated me.

The way David corrected what I wore before firm dinners.

The way he called me ungrateful whenever I disagreed.

The way he could transform any argument into a lecture about what would happen to me if I ever tried to leave.

I had told myself my father had enough responsibility.

I told myself I was an adult.

I told myself I had chosen David, so fixing the marriage was my responsibility.

Mostly, I was ashamed.

My father continued.

“I am responding only to what I can hear happening right now.”

David swallowed.

“Who are you?”