twenty-two, standing in the foyer of his house, screaming that he didn’t understand love, that he was cold, that he was trying to control me just like he controlled his courtroom. I told him Julian was different. I told him Julian was my soulmate.

My father had looked at me then, his face a mask of granite, and said, “He is a wolf, Clara. And you are walking willingly into his den. If you leave with him, do not expect me to fund your mistake.”