He stole my grandmother’s jewelry in the process, the one item in that apartment I would have grieved, and I don’t think he even registered it as loss so much as leverage.

Everything, to Zane, was leverage.

He had never once in three years looked at anything I owned or loved and seen it as mine.

He saw only what it could be traded for.

Chapter 11 — In Writing

By morning Zane sent the text that ended any doubt about how this would go. If you want your passport and your things back, drop the legal complaint and stop pressuring my mother.