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At my memorial, my husband took another woman's hand and told everyone it was my dying wish. Pinned above her heart was the founder's badge he had torn from my dress in front of four hundred guests. It wasn't the first time he'd chosen her: on the sinking yacht, she wore my life jacket while he told me I could swim. This time, I stopped asking him to choose me. He thought he could speak for me forever, but he had no idea what my silence would cost him.