By the time the sun rose the next morning, the decision had already been made. I stood in my temporary rental across town, feeding my son while Rachel handled the first wave of calls.
The offer on Cedar Ridge came faster than expected. A cash buyer, no inspections, no delays—just a clean exit from a house my husband had turned into a weapon.
Ethan texted twice. Then called once. I didn’t answer any of them.
Instead, I signed the authorization documents electronically, my hand steady even as my body was still healing from childbirth-
