I would not cry until day forty-five, in the shower, for approximately four minutes. I noted this too. I was not proud of the noting, but I was not capable of stopping it. It was simply how I was built, how I had always processed the world. Categorize. File. Act. Falling apart was a luxury I could not afford until I understood everything.
I made a decision in the kitchen on a Wednesday morning while Gary ate toast and read something on his phone, and did not look up at me once. I would not confront him. I would not leave. Not yet. I would do what I did in every complex audit—I would follow the money to its source before I made a single move. Patience. Procedure. Proof.