" WALTON DIVORCE SECRETS ABOUT TO SPILL?"

The headline screamed from the newsstand as I hurried past, collar turned up against both the October chill and any potential recognition. Three weeks into the divorce proceedings, my face was everywhere—tabloids, gossip sites, even legitimate business publications. All of them speculating. All of them are wrong.

I ducked into the coffee shop where Samantha waited, removing my sunglasses only after scanning the room for phones pointed my way.

"Jesus, you look terrible," Sam said, pushing a latte toward me.

"Thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear when her under-eye bags have their own Instagram account."

Sam's face softened. "Have you slept...