I looked down at my children. Neither of them deserved to grow up believing love had to beg for respect. The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. I picked up their backpacks, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gate.

PART 3

Adrian reached the airport an hour later—sweating, frantic, shirt wrinkled, looking like a man lost inside the wreckage of his own choices. But our flight had already closed. I was beyond security with my children beside me when another email arrived from Attorney Dawson.

“We officially filed the complaint concerning the transfers. Your attorney now has evidence regarding the penthouse, shell accounts, and use of shared marital funds. Do not answer his calls.”