Chapter 11 — The Report

I filed for divorce the next morning.

Not a quiet one — a documented one, the kind you build like a case, because that is exactly what it was.

The toxicology report came back from the independent lab two days later, and it was everything I’d feared and everything I needed.

My blood carried a significant concentration of the sedative stamped on those blue pills — a drug I had never been prescribed, never knowingly taken, and never had any medical reason to be given.

Paired with the sealed bottle, the chain of custody, and the concierge doctor’s prescription records that my attorney subpoenaed within the week, it told a single clean story that no amount of Sennett’s charm could talk its way out of: for six months, my husband had been administering a powerful sedative to me under the guise of anxiety medication, and he had done it deliberately, and there was a paper trail proving every link.