Chapter 3

I did not know how long it took me to reach the house we had once called home.

Soaked through and shaking, I pushed open the front door. My belongings were scattered across the foyer. Worse, the house itself had changed.

Because of my claustrophobia, Grant had once remodeled the house around me. The main floor became open plan. The bedroom and bathroom doors were replaced with frosted-glass panels, quick-release locks, and lights I could control from anywhere. In those early years, he would walk away from deals worth millions if I had a panic attack and needed him nearby.

He always said the same thing.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Now solid doors and heavy locks had replaced every accommodation he had made.

"I didn't want Vanessa living alone," Grant said behind me, "so I brought her here. You studied medicine in college. From now on, you can take care of her. Consider it your apology."

The sealed living room seemed to shrink around me. Fear rose like floodwater, tightening my lungs until every breath became a fight.

I stared at him. "Aren't you afraid I'll hurt her or the baby?"

He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

"After Vanessa gives birth, she will sign away her rights. We can adopt the baby and raise him as ours. Since you can't have children, this may be your only chance to be a mother. I know you won't hurt him."

He paused.

"As for Vanessa, I'll send her abroad after the delivery."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "So the two of you can keep playing house overseas?"

A vase shattered across the room.

Vanessa stood beside the broken porcelain, horror and guilt written across her face.

"I'm sorry, Claire. This is all my fault. I betrayed you. I'm disgusting."

She began hitting her stomach with both fists, then slapped herself again and again. Red fingerprints spread across her pale face.

Grant rushed to restrain her. He pulled her into his arms, then looked at me with such hatred that it felt like a knife twisting through my ribs.

"You need to stop, Claire. My patience is not unlimited. Vanessa is pregnant, and you have frightened her into a physical breakdown. What more do you want from her?"

But real trauma did not look like Vanessa's performance.

I would know.

Acid surged into my throat. I forced it down. I no longer wanted to argue with them, and I could not survive another minute in that suffocating room.

I had not eaten or drunk anything for hours. My body was already weak from shock, but I forced myself upstairs to pack.

There was no room in a marriage for three people.

I gathered the evidence I would need and one simple change of clothes. That was all.

My attorney texted as I closed the suitcase.

*The trust transfer has cleared. I have prepared the divorce petition and emergency protection filings for your signature.*

I turned off my phone and looked around the house one last time. Every corner held a memory I had once believed was beautiful.

I was carrying my suitcase to the door when Grant's voice stopped me.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He stood in the living room, his face hard and his eyes furious.

"I told you. I'm leaving you."

For one brief second, shock crossed his face. He had never imagined I would truly go through with it.

Then he laughed.

"Fine. If you want a divorce, leave behind everything I ever gave you."