“I wasn’t so young that I didn’t know better,” she said. “But … Alain could be so charming, you see. He was handsome, in exactly the sort of way that appeals to a silly young girl, like a prince in a book of fairy tales. And he was far too good at the game. One party he’d lavish attention on me, send me longing looks, leave right after dancing with me, and other nights he’d ignore me entirely. I thought I was in love with him. One night, the night of my seventeenth birthday, he suggested we find a quiet room, and … my god, I’d never even been kissed. My parents found us. Later, I realized he’d arranged it that way, but at the time, I didn’t regret it. To my mind, we were in love. And I kept believing it until we were married and on the boat to Paris. That night, my wedding night, I put on one of the beautiful negligees from my very hastily assembled trousseau, and I waited. And waited. And waited. When he hadn’t come to me by midnight, I crept to his room, worried I misunderstood. He opened the door, stared at me in my robe, and laughed. Told me I was a bitch in heat and he didn’t like to sleep with dogs. Slammed the door in my face.”

“My god,” Sam said, suddenly queasy. “Alva—”

“I later learned that his father had made a catastrophic investment, the most recent in a line of unwise business decisions, and the news was about to hit the markets. Nobody knew how depleted their accounts were—his father had been very careful to keep that quiet—but this loss was too big to hide. Alain couldn’t afford to wait.” She paused, and when she continued it was almost as if she was speaking to herself. “He never forgave me for that. He hated me for it, for having the money he didn’t. I was some callow child from a family who’d barely been wealthy for two generations; it was intolerable that he’d had to lower himself to me just to live at the level he deserved.”

“He was an evil man,” Sam said, his voice quiet. It had to be quiet—if it weren’t quiet it would be a roar.

“Yes,” she said. “He was. Do you understand now? It’s not about you. I know you’re not him. I—you’re probably the kindest man I’ve ever known. But I paid a very high price the first time, and I can’t put myself in that position again, without rights, without recourse. Even for you.”

Sam sat with her words in silence. “He’s still hurting you,” he said at last.