At 2:00 AM, my phone began to vibrate on the wooden nightstand.

The screen lit up the dark room.

The caller ID showed an unknown number.

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen, before I finally slid it to answer.

“Elena,” Julian’s voice said.

He sounded calm, his voice smooth and empty of the anger I had expected.

“Julian,” I said, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake Harrison.

“I received the draft from Martin,” he said.

“You really went through my safe.”

“You left me no choice,” I said.

“We can still fix this, Elena,” he said, his tone shifting to something almost gentle. “You don’t want to do this to our family. Think of Harrison.”

“I am thinking of Harrison,” I said. “That is why I am leaving you.”

There was a brief silence on the line.

Then I heard a faint, distinct sound in the background of his call.

It was the low, rhythmic clanking of a metal buoy bell, muffled by the fog.

It sounded exactly like the one marking the harbor channel just three blocks from my motel.