It was an email notification from Jerome.

The subject line read: *Filing Submitted.*

I opened the email.

“The petition has been delivered to the estate executor,” the message read.

“We expect a response within the hour.”

I took a sip of my coffee, my heart beating a steady, rapid rhythm against my ribs.

I opened my laptop to check the joint account one more time.

The pending charge for the luxury car was still there.

Alongside it was a new charge from a high-end baby boutique.

They were already buying designer strollers and cashmere baby blankets.

I closed the laptop.

Now, we waited.

At nine-fifteen, my phone rang again.

The caller ID showed Scott’s name.

I picked it up and pressed it to my ear.

I didn’t say a word.

I could hear his heavy, erratic breathing on the other end of the line.

“Avery,” he gasped, his arrogant tone completely gone.

“Avery,” he gasped, his arrogant tone completely gone.

“What do you want, Scott?” I asked.

My voice was flat and cold.

“What did you do?” he hissed, his breath rattling against the receiver.