Before boarding, I looked at the envelope Eleanor had once pushed across the table.
It had been returned after the trial, still sealed in an evidence sleeve.
I had never spent a dollar of it.
The money had been meant to purchase my silence, my absence, and eventually my life.
Instead, it became proof.
I left it with my attorney to establish a fund for people facing financial abuse and fraudulent control inside their marriages.
Then I walked onto the plane.
Three weeks later, I came home exactly when I wanted to.
