The grandfather clock in the living room began to chime, its deep tones echoing through the empty spaces of the house.

It was nine o’clock.

“The bank has already halted the application,” Jennifer said. “And the title company has flagged your name.”

Brent took a step back, his heel hitting the threshold of the open front door.

A flurry of snow blew inside, settling on the dark hardwood floor.

“You’re trying to ruin me,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me. “You think you’re so smart, Tessa.”

“I am protecting my daughter,” I said.

“Our daughter!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.

“Do not raise your voice in this house,” I said.

My hand was resting on the brass door handle, my fingers cold against the metal.

“You have twenty minutes to gather your personal clothing,” Jennifer said, checking her watch. “The sheriff’s deputy is already on his way to supervise.”

Brent looked down the street, where the snow was falling faster now, blurring the streetlights.

“My car is gone,” he said. “Where am I supposed to go?”