She opened her laptop and logged into their shared bank account. The balance was almost empty even though several days earlier there had still been enough money to cover rent.
Now the funds were gone, transferred to an unfamiliar account number.
Something inside Megan snapped at that moment.
Yet the sensation did not hurt.
It felt like relief.
Each lie Scott had told during the last year had quietly cut another thread that tied her life to his until almost nothing remained. The following morning Megan left the apartment before Scott woke up and stepped into the chilly air of the Chicago street.
At the corner a small café had just opened and the smell of fresh coffee drifted through the morning. Megan walked steadily forward without turning around and by ten o’clock she sat in a bright office on the second floor of an older brick building.
The door simply read Law Office.
The attorney who welcomed her was a woman with short blond hair and attentive eyes named Rebecca Miller, and she listened patiently while Megan explained the situation. Megan placed the brown envelope on the desk and spoke calmly.