I swallowed.
“Yes,” I said. “Indirectly.”
Maribel’s pen moved.
“Financial control?”
I hesitated.
Ryan paid the mortgage. Ryan managed the investments. Ryan insisted my teaching salary was “cute” but unnecessary after we married, then suggested I stop working during pregnancy because stress wasn’t good for the baby. I had access to a joint account, but large expenses required “discussion,” which meant permission dressed as teamwork.
“Yes.”
“Isolation?”
I thought of the friendships that had thinned because Ryan disliked them. The dinners I missed because he said I looked tired. The way he mocked my brother until I stopped calling as often. The neighbor he called a hermit because he could not control him with charm.
“Yes.”
Each yes felt like pulling a nail from a board that had been nailed over a window.
Maribel closed the folder gently.
“We can help you create a safety plan before discharge. You do not have to decide everything today.”
