I hit submit.
Then I texted Vanessa the listing link.
No message. Just the link.
Three minutes later, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I let it go to voicemail.
You think you’re so smart. Robert’s going to come back to me. You’ll see. He always does. And when he does, I’m taking everything.
I deleted the voicemail before she finished.
Robert moved into the house on Willow Street on July sixth.
I helped him unpack. Three suitcases, a box of books, his laptop. Everything else he owned was still at the Ashford.
“She changed the locks,” he told me, sitting on the floor of the empty living room. “I went back for my clothes and she’d already changed them. She texted me a list of demands. Fifty thousand in the divorce settlement or she’ll drag it out for years.”
I handed him a bottle of water.
