A stranger beside me on a flight asked, “Could you pretend you fell asleep on my shoulder?” I almost said no. I had just left Chicago with my five-year-old daughter, two suitcases, and a marriage that had fallen apart three days earlier. But I agreed. Two hours later, I woke up still leaning against him—and discovered the quiet man beside me was one of the country’s best-known billionaires. Then my phone reconnected, and a message from my ex-husband appeared: I KNOW YOU TOOK FIONA TO NEW YORK.

David and I sat across a table from each other for the first time since the hearings began.

There were no television screens covering the walls.

No team of six corporate litigators.

No billionaire threatening him from the head of the table.

There was David.

There was me.

There were our attorneys.

And there were records neither of us could talk around anymore.

He looked thinner.

“You’ve made your point,” he said.

Miriam glanced at me but did not answer for me.

I looked at him.

“What point do you think I was making?”

“That you can hurt me too.”

I almost laughed.

Even then, he thought this was revenge.

“I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Please. You hired accountants. You froze accounts. You dragged my finances into court.”

“You asked a judge to give you control of our daughter after you locked us out of the house.”