Behind them, the Bahamas stretched out in polished turquoise.

Then I read the caption. Away from problems. Family time. I stared at those words until the room around me seemed to blur.

Away from problems. The problem was me.

The man who paid for the vacation was the problem. The grandfather waiting beside a birthday cake was the problem. The father who’d transferred ten thousand dollars into Trevor’s account the week before, because Trevor claimed his company had a payroll emergency—he was the problem.

Trevor had looked me in the eye and said people were depending on him. He’d sounded strained, almost ashamed. I wired the money in under five minutes.

Now he was on a boat.