That’s when something in me snapped.
I didn’t call Lydia. I didn’t warn Scott.
I grabbed my keys and headed to the house I once owned—the house I’d given Scott and his first wife to start their life. I still had a key. I knew every inch of it.
I went straight to the storage room.
In the back corner were four sturdy suitcases with combination locks. I had bought them decades ago for a trip that never happened. Life had other plans, but the suitcases were still solid.
Perfect.
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