“You’re welcome to try,” I said.

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon to pick up the rest of my winter clothes,” he said. “Make sure you’re not there. I don’t want a scene.”

“I won’t be here,” I said.

“Good. I’m glad you’re finally starting to be sensible.”

He hung up.

I stared at the black screen of my phone for a moment, then looked down at the binders in my lap.

I took my phone out again and snapped clear, high-resolution photos of every single page of the commercial retainer agreement.

I sent the images directly to Gloria Vance’s personal email.

Within two minutes, my phone lit up with a text from her.

*Got them. This is exactly what we need.*

I packed the binders into a heavy canvas tote bag I found in the closet.

I climbed down from the exposed floor of the bedroom wing, holding the heavy bag tightly against my side.

Outside, the air was thick with the smell of diesel and dry dust.

The second flatbed truck was fully loaded now.