The tea hit my face before I fully understood that my husband had actually thrown it. One second, Daniel was standing across our marble kitchen demanding twenty-eight thousand dollars for his mother’s “once-in-a-lifetime European tour.” The next, scalding liquid was running down my cheek and neck while he screamed, “Wire the money right now or get out of this house!” I didn’t scream.
That unsettled him more than tears would have.
I pressed a cold dish towel against my skin and stared at him. His mother, Vivian, sat at the
