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When the judge struck his gavel and announced the final terms of our divorce, James looked like a man who’d just won the lottery. He strutted out of the courtroom with the swagger of someone who believed he had played the game better than anyone else. He got the house. He got the car. He got the bulk of our savings and most of the furniture we’d picked out back when we still pretended we were building a future. To the outside world, he looked triumphant. To him, this was proof of his brilliance, his strategy, his so-called dominance. But…
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