He was trying to buy his freedom from prison.

I read the lines twice.

The price of his silence was everything he had spent his life accumulating.

He wanted me to sign it before the partners could file formal charges against him.

If I signed it, the divorce was over.

Harrison and I would be safe, financially secure, and completely free of him.

But it meant letting him walk away from the financial crimes he had committed.

I heard a soft sound upstairs.

I walked up the wooden steps, my heart beating in my throat.

Harrison was asleep in his travel crib, his thumb tucked into his mouth.

His breathing was steady and soft.

I smoothed the blue blanket over his shoulders.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen.

The rain was coming down harder now, a steady drumbeat on the metal roof.

The wind rattled the glass pane of the kitchen window.

I stood by the sink, looking out into the driveway.

The rental SUV was parked under the pine trees.

Beyond the driveway, the narrow gravel road wound through the woods toward the main highway.