By that afternoon, Harold had arranged a temporary apartment through the estate, referred me to a family lawyer named Celeste Ward, and scheduled a medical appointment.

At 5:40 p.m., Nolan called.

I stared at his name on the screen.

Then I answered.

His voice was sharp.

“Where are you?”

“Safe.”

“You took the car.”

“It’s in my name.”

A pause.

Then, colder, “You think this is going to make me look bad?”

“Nolan, you threw your pregnant wife into the rain.”

“You cheated on me.”