My husband splashed champagne over my dress at his promotion gala to introduce his mistress.

What I have had to take.

That is mine, and it is not the dress and it is not the six years.

I had, in my hand, in the March of 2024, a governance flag on a division run by my own husband — and I put the file down, and I did not pass it to the chairman, and I did not request the further information, and I did not tell my own investment committee to pursue it.

Because pursuing it meant one of two things.

Either I went to Hollis Braide and said: look at this man’s numbers — in which case the first question anybody competent would ask is why a new thirty-eight per cent holder is so interested in one divisional head, and the answer to that question is my marriage certificate.

Or I asked Dash about it myself, at that kitchen table, and then I would have had to explain how I had come to be holding an internal diligence file on his employer.

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