was blamed on an extended strategy meeting. The next involved client drinks, the third exhaustion after a late night in the city. The fourth didn’t receive an explanation until lunch the following day. By then, Jasmine Cole had published yet another picture standing next to him at a Prescott Global charity function. Nothing incriminating appeared in it. She wasn’t kissing or even touching him. She was simply there, as she always was: dinners, retreats, conferences, galas, the summer celebration, and that winter fundraiser when I’d watched from ten feet away
The fifth time my husband stayed out all night, I didn’t call him—I opened his company’s Slack and told more than five hundred employees
