Three days after my father-in-law’s funeral, my husband asked for a divorce in the very study where I had spent seven years holding his life together.

He didn’t even bother to act remorseful.

Nathan stood beside the mahogany desk his father, Charles Whitmore, had once used to oversee a private investment empire worth hundreds of millions. Rain streaked the tall windows, blurring the outside world, and the house still carried the heavy scent of funeral lilies. I wore one of Charles’s old cashmere cardigans, partly because …