Email: new account, two-factor.
Phone: carrier PIN.
Passwords: banking, utilities, cloud, smart lock, thermostat, streaming, grocery delivery, insurance, employer portal.
Documents: passport, Social Security card, birth certificate, marriage certificate, mortgage, deed, insurance, car title.
Locks: locksmith.
Evidence: upload media, export smart-lock logs, screenshot texts, save voicemails, photograph house condition.
Communication: one line only.
I kept writing until my brain stopped circling the image of the couch.
At 2:10 a.m., Caleb texted.
You home?
2:12 a.m.
Why aren’t you answering?
2:13 a.m.
Did something happen at work?
I stared at the messages.
There was the performance. Not Where are you, I’m worried. Not I woke up and you weren’t here. Not Are you safe?
It was framed like annoyance pretending to be concern.
I screenshot every message, saved them to the folder, and turned off read receipts.
At 3:40 a.m., I lay down fully clothed on top of the hotel comforter, shoes on the floor beside the bed, phone charging on the nightstand. Sleep did not come, but neither did the collapse I expected. I was not thinking about what they had done. I was thinking about what I would do next.