But hearing it spoken in front of witnesses stripped him of the last lie.
The little federal office wife was gone.
Or maybe she had never existed.
Warren looked away first.
Rowan’s assistant handed me a tablet. “Colonel, the temporary custody schedule draft is ready for review.”
Warren flinched at the title.
I signed with my finger.
Clean.
Precise.
Final.
By midnight, my daughters were asleep in my parents’ guest room, tucked beneath a quilt my mother had made before Sadie was born. My father sat downstairs with Rowan, reviewing the next steps. My mother made tea no one drank.
I stood alone in the hallway, listening to the quiet.
For the first time in years, no one in the house expected me to shrink.
My phone buzzed.
I expected Warren.
Or Beverly.
Or one of his relatives suddenly eager to explain how they had never agreed with what happened.
