WE SHOULDN’T DO THIS, DADDIES
I had believed her.
I pressed my hands to my face and laughed—sharp, broken, until I couldn’t breathe. When I dropped them, they stared at me like I had lost my mind.
“I want a divorce,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You can have her, Dylan. I’m done.”
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me cold.
“That’s not possible, honey.” I could hear the smile in his tone. “You can’t leave me for the next sixty-seven years. Remember the contract?”