“It’s only for a week,” Daniel promised.

The week became three years.

The downstairs suite became Vanessa’s office and exercise room, because — according to her — the lighting was better and the built-in shelves worked perfectly for video meetings.

My bedroom had no closet. My dresses hung from a rolling rack beside the dryer. The children’s winter coats filled the hooks outside my door. I kept telling myself it was temporary.

Temporary became the most dangerous word in my life.

At first I enjoyed helping. I packed lunches, cooked dinners, cared for the children while Daniel and Vanessa attended business events. Lily loved sitting beside me while I repaired dresses, collecting lace scraps and arranging them in notebooks.