Chapter 3
I drove to my sister's house.
She lived forty minutes away, in a quiet neighborhood with a security system and a big dog.
I didn't call ahead. I just showed up.
When she opened the door and saw my face—my split lip, my red cheek, the way Lily clung to me—she didn't ask questions.
She just pulled us inside.
Made us tea. Sat Lily down with cookies and cartoons.
Then she turned to me.
"Tell me everything."
I told her.
About the slap. About the folder. About the application with his name on it.
About the insurance money from Mark—my husband, Lily's father—who had died two years ago in a construction accident.
About how Ethan had come into my life when I was still grieving. Still vulnerable.
How he'd said all the right things.
How he'd pretended to love us.
All for money.
May you like
My sister's face hardened.
"He won't get away with this," she said. "We're calling the police. Right now."
