Sebastian believed he held the power in our marriage because he held the title. What he had chosen to forget, over years of growing arrogant and distracted, was a single fact buried in the founding documents of his own company. The corporation he ran was capitalized, in its earliest and most fragile days, by my family’s investment fund. In exchange, my family’s trust had retained a controlling block of voting shares, and I was the sole living beneficiary and directing trustee of that trust. Sebastian was the chief executive. But he served at the pleasure of the shareholders. And the largest shareholder, by a decisive margin, had just watched his assistant take office shears to her hair.

By the time I pulled out of that underground garage, my attorney had already circulated the emergency board resolution. The workplace misconduct report, complete with the security incident file and the washroom photographs, landed in the inboxes of every board member within the hour. Adriana’s shrugged confession, “I took action for our future,” had been overheard by two security officers and was now a signed statement. Sebastian was still in his office, still assuming this was a spat that would blow over by dinner, when his phone rang with a number he could not afford to ignore. It was the chairman of his own board.