I cried in my husband’s arms at the airport as he boarded what he claimed was a two-year work assignment in Zurich

I remembered it immediately. My father’s estate documents. Copies of trust paperwork. Records showing the inheritance had been mine before the marriage.

My throat tightened.

“He took the folder,” I said.

Grace inhaled on the other end of the line.

“Then he’s further along than I thought.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he isn’t only planning to leave you. He may be planning to argue that the money was marital property.”

I sank back on my heels.

“That won’t work,” I said, though I wasn’t sure.

“Maybe not. But it could delay things. Freeze things. Pressure you.”

I thought of Lucas in first class, perhaps sipping wine, perhaps texting me some tender message from thirty thousand feet.