Chapter 6

About twenty minutes later.

Eric called again.

This time, I picked up.

The second I hit accept, his voice exploded through the speaker.

"Evelyn! You psycho! Who the hell did you rent this place to?!"

I didn't say a word.

In the background, I heard a deep, gravelly voice booming.

"Who the fuck are you calling your wife?! This is my boss's house! Get the hell off the porch before I break your legs!"

Then Candace started screaming bloody murder.

"Help! They're attacking us! Somebody call 911!"

"911? I'm the one you should be worried about! Now get out!"

I heard some scuffling, a few loud thuds, and then the line went dead.

I'm guessing they were "escorted" off the property.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, another message from Eric.

It was a voice memo. His voice was shaking, and I could hear the wind howling and him gasping for air.

"Evelyn... where are you?! Who are those people? They literally threw us out on the street! Our luggage is still sitting in the hallway!"

For the first time in his life, he sounded genuinely terrified.

He probably thought I'd hired the mob or something.

I let him stew for a bit.

I waited until the initial shock had passed but the panic was still peaking.

Then I started typing.

Slowly. Methodically. One word at a time.

I pictured them huddled in the cold wind, surrounded by seven massive suitcases, looking like total losers.

He was probably staring at his phone, desperate for a reply.

Like a convict waiting for the judge to drop the hammer.

I finished the text.

Read it over once.

Perfect.

Then, I hit send.

"The house isn't rented."

"It's sold."

"And we're done. For good."

"My lawyer will be mailing you the divorce papers."

"Hope you and your 'perfect' family enjoy being homeless together this year. Merry Christmas!"

Message delivered.

I saw the bubble pop up on the screen.

And then, I made my final move.

I long-pressed Eric's contact.

Tapped the button.

Block.

Candace? Block.

Brittany? Block.

I went down the list and scrubbed every single one of them out of my life.

When it was done, I tossed my phone onto the desk.

And I took the deepest, most satisfying breath of my life.

It felt like I'd finally dropped a thousand-pound weight I'd been carrying for three years.

The sunlight was streaming through the blinds, making patterns on the desk.

The world finally looked bright again.

I knew the drama wasn't 100% over.

They'd try to hunt me down.

They'd probably show up at my office or harass my parents.

But I was ready for them.

I texted Rachel: It's officially started.

Rachel replied: Copy that. Let them come. We'll handle whatever garbage they throw at us. I've got your back.

I told the front desk that if anyone came looking for me, they were to tell them I was away on a business trip indefinitely.

Then I called my parents.

I told them the marriage was over and the house was gone.

My dad was quiet for a long time on the other end.

Then he just said, "Come home, baby girl. Our door is always open for you."

And that was it. I finally broke down and cried.

But they weren't sad tears.

They were tears of relief. Tears of freedom. Tears for my new life.

I wiped my eyes.

Looked out at the horizon.

I knew that my life was finally beginning today.

How long would Eric and his family stand out there on the sidewalk?

How were they going to move that mountain of luggage?

Where were they going to sleep tonight?

A cheap motel? Some relative's couch?

I didn't know.

And I didn't give a damn.

Their story was over.

And mine? Mine was just getting to the good part.