I boarded my husband's private jet and his secretary was in my seat, feeding him peeled orange. His mother told me to be considerate. I stepped off. Then the crew asked whether I wanted the flight cancelled.

He asked whether I had left the aircraft. I said yes.

And he wrote: we need to talk. There's something you should know about her.

And then, before I could reply: not over text. And don't trust anybody in his circle.

I asked him later why he sent the second message so fast, and he said: because I knew you'd ring somebody to check on me.

We met at eleven the following morning, in a hotel bar, which is the sort of detail that sounds dramatic and was actually just the only place open.

Here is what he had.

She is not new.

That is the first thing Daxon said, in a hotel bar, before he had even sat down properly.

She has been on a payroll for eleven months — not the company's. A separate consulting entity, registered in another state, with a name that means nothing.

And that entity has taken four consulting payments. Eleven thousand, nine thousand, eleven thousand, and twenty-two.