Again.
Again.
Again.
I thought about packing a bag.
Leaving Adrian that night.
I wanted to.
Then fear arrived.
The mortgage was in his name.
The main checking account was supposedly ours, but only Adrian really controlled it.
My bookkeeping salary covered groceries and basic expenses.
It did not cover a deposit, rent, furniture, utilities, and starting again in Bellmere.
So I stayed.
I still hate admitting that.
But I stayed.
Not because I chose Adrian.
Because I was afraid.
I SEARCHED FOR SOPHIE
For weeks, I called everyone.
Her friends.
Their parents.
Shelters.
Hospitals.
Friends from Westbridge—no, her local school friends in Bellmere.
Anyone whose number I could find.
I filed a missing-person report.
Detective Alvarez took the statement.
“She’s eighteen, ma’am.”
“I know.”
“If she left voluntarily and does not want contact, there are limits to what we can do.”
“She wouldn’t disappear without telling me.”
He looked genuinely sympathetic.
“I’ll keep the case open.”
During the third week, Sophie’s phone stopped ringing entirely.
That was when something inside me broke.
My only child had simply vanished.
THEN I ASKED ABOUT THE MONEY
One evening, I forced myself to bring it up.
“Adrian.”
He looked at the television.
“What?”
“The college account.”
“What account?”
“My father’s money.”
His face stayed perfectly calm.
“The trust he left Sophie.”
“Oh.”
He reached for his drink.
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve checked it?”
“I moved it.”
I stared.
“You moved it?”
“A few months ago.”
“Where?”
“A certificate of deposit.”
“Why?”
“For safety.”
