“You need to leave,” Grant said.

“This is my house, Grant,” I said. “My name is on the deed.”

“Not anymore,” Grant said.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded packet of papers.

He tossed them onto the table.

The paper slid across the wood and stopped near the spilled coffee.

“I filed for divorce three weeks ago,” Grant said.

“You can’t file for divorce without serving me,” I said.

“The court granted an emergency motion,” Grant replied.

He smiled, a thin, cruel line.

“You were unreachable,” he said. “The judge agreed that you abandoned your family.”

“I was on a classified federal assignment,” I said.

“That is your story,” Grant said. “To the court, you are an unstable woman who disappears for months.”

He stepped closer, his boots clicking on the floor.

“I have temporary sole custody of Lily,” he said.

“She is traumatized, Grant,” I said, looking down at my daughter. “What did you do to her?”

“She is fine,” Vanessa interrupted, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “She just needs discipline.”

“Shut your mouth,” I told her.