Chapter 6

About twenty minutes later, Eric called again.

This time I answered.

The second the line connected, his voice exploded. "Evelyn! Who did you rent the house to?!"

I didn't say anything.

In the background, a rough voice was yelling: "Who's your wife?! This is my boss's house! Get lost before I make you!"

Candace was screaming. "Help! He's hitting people! Call the police!"

"Call the police? You should be glad I'm not putting hands on you! Get out!"

Sounds of shoving. A few thuds. Then it cut off.

I figured they'd been "escorted" away.

A few minutes later, Eric sent another voice message. Wind howling. He was panting.

"Evelyn... where are you? Who were those people? They threw us all out onto the street! Our luggage is still on the porch!"

For the first time, there was real panic in his voice. He probably thought I'd hired muscle.

I let him wait. Let the panic ferment to its peak. Then I started typing.

One word at a time. Slow.

"The house isn't rented."

"It's sold."

"We're done. Completely done."

"The divorce papers are already with my lawyer. You sign, or you sign."

"Enjoy being homeless with your perfect family this year. Merry Christmas."

Send.

The screen immediately showed "typing..."

I didn't look. I long-pressed Eric's contact, opened it, and blocked him.

Candace. Blocked.

Brittany. Blocked.

One by one down the list. When I was done, I tossed the phone on the desk.

Then I took a deep breath. The easiest breath in three years.

It felt like something heavy had been lifted off my shoulders.

Sunlight leaked through the blinds, casting bright lines across the desk.

The world was finally bright.

I knew this wasn't over. They'd find a way to come after me. Maybe show up at my office. Maybe harass my parents.

But I was ready.

I texted Rachel: It's official.

She replied instantly: Got it. I'm on the divorce papers. They won't get anywhere. Focus on work.

I told the front desk that if anyone came looking for me, to say I was on a business trip, return date unknown.

Then I called my parents.

I told them the marriage was over. The house was sold.

On the other end, my dad was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said, "Come home, kiddo. The door's always open."

That one sentence broke me.

Not from sadness. From relief. From finally feeling free.

I wiped my eyes and looked out the window.

I knew my life was just beginning.

Where were Eric and his family standing right now? How would they move their luggage? Where would they sleep tonight?

I didn't know.

And I didn't care.

Their story was over.

Mine was just getting to the good part.