“We don’t know.”

Lauren looked at the empty street. “Then why did you let him leave?”

Claire’s expression hardened. “I didn’t let him do anything. Ethan has spent years making women responsible for his decisions. I won’t keep that pattern going for him.”

Lauren looked away. The sentence landed deeper than Claire intended.

They went back inside. Claire closed the door. The house no longer felt like mine. Every room held evidence of conversations I hadn’t heard and decisions I hadn’t approved.

The dining table held financial records. The office held an empty hiding place. The driveway camera held the last image of Ethan’s taillights. And the bedroom held a half-packed suitcase Lauren had prepared two days earlier.