He tapped the screen again, cutting off the call before Grant could reply.

Silence filled the SUV, save for the hum of the tires on the asphalt.

I reached forward and touched Nathan’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He looked at me in the rearview mirror, his expression softening.

“We are in this together, Emily,” he said.

But I knew the truth.

The fake marriage certificate had saved my daughter today, but it was a shield made of glass.

If Grant or his mother Evelyn investigated too closely, the shards would cut us both.

I looked down at Rosie, who was breathing softly in her sleep.

I had to stand on my own two feet.

The next morning, I began my search for a job.

I had a degree in graphic design that had gathered dust during my years with Grant.

I set up a small desk in the corner of the guest bedroom in Nathan’s house.

Nathan had offered me a position at his firm, but I declined.

“I need to do this myself, Nathan,” I told him over breakfast.