I pulled over across the street, keeping my engine running.

Kayla Jenson was standing on the concrete driveway, holding a stack of designer shoe boxes.

Her face was pale, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy knot.

She threw the boxes into the back of her car with a force that shook the bumper.

Scott emerged from the front door, wearing a wrinkled grey t-shirt and sweatpants.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

His hands were shaking as he reached for her arm.

“Kayla, wait,” he shouted, his voice carrying across the quiet street.

“The appeal will go through. We just need a few weeks.”

She spun around, slapping his hand away.

“With what money, Scott?” she screamed.

“Your cards are maxed out. The bank called me about the lease on my car!”

“I’ll fix it,” Scott pleaded, taking a step toward her.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice cracking with anger.

“You told me you were getting five million. You told me we were buying the estate in Heights View.”

She slammed the trunk of her car shut.