Stability. David—who’d thrown Sophie’s birthday cake against the wall because she’d asked if Mommy could read the bedtime story instead of him. David—who told our eight‑year‑old that Mommy’s job isn’t important like Daddy’s.

But there was one clause buried on page forty‑seven of that prenup, one his drunk lawyer friend had probably copied from a template without reading: “In cases of documented domestic violence witnessed by multiple parties in a public setting, all agreements become void.”

Public setting. Multiple witnesses. Documented.

David thought he was smart, keeping his violence private—behind closed doors, where bruises could be explained away and no one would testify.

The financial stakes went beyond the prenup. David’s company had contracts with my firm. If I left messily, he’d pull them—nearly ten million in annual billing. He’d already threatened as much.