He had even signed over a significant portion of his remaining liquid assets to her name.

Now, those assets were frozen too.

The plane tilted, banking hard to the left as we began our descent toward the coast.

Below us, the dark expanse of the Atlantic Ocean replaced the city lights.

The air here would be cold, thick with salt and fog.

I had signed the lease on a small, weathered cottage three miles from the harbor.

It was a place Daniel had never heard of, far from the high-rises and the boardrooms.

Lily turned away from the window and looked at me.

“Are we almost there, Mom?” she asked.

“Almost, sweetie,” I said, smoothing her hair.

“Will Daddy be there?”

“No,” I said. “Just us.”

She didn’t ask why.

At eight years old, she had already learned to read the tension in our old house.

She knew the sound of doors slamming and the quiet, late-night tears.

The wheels of the plane hit the tarmac with a violent shudder.

The brakes squealed, forcing us forward in our seats.

I gripped the armrests until my knuckles turned white.

We had escaped.

I unbuckled my seatbelt as the captain announced our arrival.

The air in the cabin shifted, cooling as the forward doors opened.

I guided Lily and a sleepy Ethan down the aisle, carrying our heavy carry-on bags.

As we stepped onto the jet bridge, the damp coastal wind hit my face.

My phone buzzed violently in my palm.

The cellular signal had reconnected.

I unlocked the screen, expecting another brief update from Robert.

Instead, a string of missed calls from an unknown number filled the display.

Then, a text message appeared.

My breath caught in my throat as I read the words.

It was an image.

A screenshot of a bank notification showing a zero balance.