Children always believe love and safety belong together permanently until adults teach them otherwise.
“I’m not mad at you,” I answered carefully. “That’s the important thing right now.”
After Liam fell asleep, I walked downstairs barefoot through the silent kitchen until I reached my home office. The digital clock on the microwave read 2:47 a.m. when I finally opened my email archives and began searching through documents Daniel had pressured me to sign after my surgery six weeks earlier.
At the time, I had still been dizzy from anesthesia and prescription medication. Daniel told me the paperwork involved temporary insurance authorizations connected to our shared investment accounts. I remembered signing quickly because my abdomen still hurt every time I moved.
Now, however, one document froze the blood inside my veins.
JOINT DURABLE FINANCIAL POWER OF ATTORNEY.
Beneath several paragraphs of carefully constructed legal language sat my electronic signature alongside wording granting Daniel extensive authority over shared assets, transfers, investment activity, and property management.
My stomach twisted violently.
I immediately checked the attached filing history.
Witnessed and notarized forty-eight hours earlier.
By Daniel Carter.
And Melissa Grant.
Melissa.
His executive assistant.
Or perhaps something far more dangerous than that.
I stared at the screen until sunrise painted pale light across the kitchen counters.
At exactly seven-thirty, Daniel walked downstairs freshly showered and perfectly composed, wearing charcoal slacks and the expensive watch I bought him after he made partner three years earlier.
He kissed the top of my head casually before pouring coffee.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?” he asked smoothly.
