“I’m taking back what’s mine, but I will not become like you, Mark.”

“So you choose the civil recovery?” David asked.

“Hand me the pen,” I said.

David laid the civil agreement flat across his leather briefcase.

I took the pen and signed my name on the bottom line in clear cursive, securing my financial restitution and the permanent restraining order.

David took the paper back, checked the signature, and nodded once.

At twelve o’clock, bright winter light poured across the wet concrete of the driveway outside.

I walked back into the small guest bedroom one final time to gather my remaining things.