The brass key felt cold against my palm.

I turned it in the lock of the heavy oak front door.

For three years, I had not known the feeling of a key turning easily.

My fingers were still stiff from the damp autumn air outside.

I carried only a single leather folder and my handbag.

My inheritance, all three hundred thousand dollars of it, was gone.

I had spent every cent paying off Daniel’s debts to keep his logistics company from collapsing.

Now, the quiet of the entryway felt heavier than usual.

I walked into the foyer, my boots clicking softly on the polished hardwood.

A fire was crackling in the hearth of the living room.

I smelled expensive perfume, but it was not mine.

I stepped through the archway and stopped.

Daniel was sitting on the leather sofa.

His mother, Margaret, sat beside him, her posture rigid as she sipped tea from a porcelain cup.

His father, Richard, stood by the mantelpiece, adjusting his gold watch.

Next to Daniel sat a young woman in a beige knit dress.

She looked barely twenty-five, with long blonde hair and manicured nails that rested on Daniel’s knee.

Daniel did not stand up when he saw me.

“You’re back,” he said.

His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.

“I am,” I said, looking at the girl’s hand on his leg.

The girl did not move her hand.

She looked at me with a small, mocking smile.

“Emily,” Margaret said, setting her cup down with a sharp clink against the saucer. “We need to talk.”

“Who is this?” I asked, though I already knew.

“This is Sophia,” Daniel said, finally looking me in the eye. “She lives here now.”

I looked at Richard, the retired banker who had always advised me on how to manage my money.

He avoided my gaze, staring down at his polished leather shoes.

“We’ve made some decisions while you were away sorting out the final accounts,” Daniel continued.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“The marriage is over, Emily.”

The fire popped behind them, throwing orange light across the room.