When I was done, I zipped it shut and dragged it downstairs, leaving it by the front door like an item waiting for pickup.
Then I called security.
“I need all access changed,” I said.
“All of it, Ms. Carter?” the voice on the other end asked.
“All of it.”
Codes.
Locks.
Permissions.
Everything.
By the end of the day, Daniel no longer existed in that house.
Three days later, the property was already in escrow.
Luxury homes like that didn’t sit idle.
They didn’t wait.
They moved.
Forty million dollars.
I signed the paperwork without blinking.
While, somewhere far away, Daniel and Chloe were still living their perfect little story.
Beaches.
Sunsets.
Cocktails.
Photos posted with captions about love and new beginnings.
Her hand resting on her stomach.
Everything glowing.
Everything false.
Because they didn’t know yet.
Not until they came back.
The morning they returned, I was in my office.
Waiting.
At 10:43 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Daniel.
I looked at the screen for a moment… then answered.
“Olivia, what the hell is going on?” His voice was tight, uneven.
“Good morning, Daniel.”
“I can’t get into the house!”
“Of course you can’t.”
Silence.
Then, sharper, “What did you do?”
“I fixed things.”
“This isn’t funny.”