“Claire, don’t start drama.”

I closed my suitcase.

“I’m not starting anything.”

“Good. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“No,” I said.

He laughed dismissively.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I went downstairs to the home office and unlocked the filing cabinet Daniel never bothered opening.

Inside were thirty years of documents.

Property deeds.

Partnership agreements.

Tax records.

And one particular document Daniel had signed six years earlier without reading carefully because, as usual, he had told me, “You handle the boring stuff.”

I rested my hand on the folder.

For years, Daniel had confused my reliability with obedience.

By the next day, he was going to understand the difference.

At 6:52 the following morning, Melissa’s SUV rolled into my driveway.

I was already sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee.

She stepped out wearing designer sunglasses while her two children remained strapped into the back seat.

“You’re ready?” she asked.

“No.”

Melissa removed her sunglasses.

“What?”

“I’m not babysitting.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Daniel said—”

“Daniel doesn’t control my calendar.”

She gave an irritated laugh.

“Claire, I have a spa reservation. It’s nonrefundable.”

“So was my hotel.”

“That’s different.”

I smiled.

“Apparently.”

She immediately called Daniel.