“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, turning to follow me. “Stay here. Let me pour you a drink, and we can talk about this like adults.”

“No,” I said, my voice firm.

I walked out of the study and down the grand, dark hallway, my boots echoing on the marble floor of the foyer.

He followed me, his footsteps loud and insistent behind mine.

“Claire, wait,” he called out.

I did not look back.

I reached the heavy oak front door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the freezing Concord night.

The rain had stopped, leaving the driveway slick and black under the moonless sky.

I got into my sedan, locked the doors immediately, and started the engine.

In my rearview mirror, I saw Graham standing under the porch light, his phone already pressed to his ear as he watched me pull away.

I drove down the winding driveway, the headlights cutting through the thick mist rising from the wet lawns.

Once I reached the main road, I plugged my dead phone into the car’s USB charger.

The screen remained black for a few agonizing minutes before the battery icon finally appeared.