Chapter 4

The day before I was supposed to leave, Dallas snatched my passport.

When I finally found it in the study drawer, he was standing in the doorway, watching me. "You've been acting kind of off lately."

I said, "So, you decided to hold onto my passport and driver's license?"

"I wanted you to cool off for a few days." He reached for my passport.

But I pulled back. "Get out of the way."

"Kinley, let's talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Lottie needs someone to take care of her, but you're still the woman of this house. I won't let anyone mess with your status."

When he said "status," I nearly laughed out loud.

Dallas thought I was jealous of Charlotte moving in. He had a whole speech prepared to soothe his wife, but he had no clue I'd already seen the rot festering beneath the surface of our so-called seven-year marriage.

"I don't need you to guarantee my status," I said.

"Then what do you want?" Dallas asked.

"I'm going to the airport."

He stepped in front of the door, blocking my way.

I took out my phone. "Keep blocking me, and I'll call the police."

"I'm your husband, Kinley!" Dallas yelled.

"Are you okay with the cops checking if we're actually married?"

The study went dead silent.

Dallas stared at me, his face draining of color. "You checked?"

I didn't answer.

Suddenly, I heard the sharp crash of a cup breaking out in the hallway.

Charlotte was standing there, milk pooling around her feet. Samuel rushed over from the living room, and the moment he saw my passport in my hand and the look on Dallas's face, he immediately got the picture.

Samuel tried to explain. "Kinley, there's a reason for all this."

"I'm catching a flight. I don't have time for explanations," I said.

"You can't leave like this." Samuel grabbed my suitcase.

I yanked it back hard. It banged against the corner of the cabinet, one of the wheels came off, and my clothes scattered all over the floor.

Charlotte crouched down to help me pick them up.

She picked up my cold-weather work gear, her tears falling onto the reflective strip. "It's all my fault. I can end the pregnancy if you want. Please don't go."

Dallas's face changed in an instant. "You can't give up the baby."

He crouched down in front of Charlotte, helping her up.

He moved before anyone could say a word.

I picked up the scattered papers and stuffed them back into the suitcase. The broken wheel scraped loudly against the floor as I dragged it away.

Samuel tried to block me again. "I was the one who got the fake certificate made. Dallas wasn't thinking things through back then. Lottie was already married overseas, and he really wanted to make things work with you.

"Except for not having the official paperwork, wasn't your seven years together basically the same as a real marriage?"

I stopped. "You knew all along?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

"So, you helped him lie to me for seven years?"

"He did treat you well!" Samuel raised his voice. "He never shortchanged you, and he shared all the household expenses with you.

"Now Lottie's pregnant, and she's already going through hell. You can take some time abroad to clear your head, but please don't blow this up for everyone."

I stared at him for a long time.

This was the same brother who'd always had my back, who'd shielded me from flying bottles, carried me to the hospital, and held my hand at our parents' funeral, promising he'd always protect me.

No one forced him to do this. After weighing it all, he figured my seven years were easier to give up than a few tears from Charlotte.

I set my suitcase down, pulled a spare key from my wallet, and left it on the entryway table. "You have one month to get out."

Dallas looked up. "This is our home."

"This place belongs to me," I retorted.

"You're really kicking out a pregnant woman?" Samuel snapped.

"I'm giving her a month because she's pregnant. I'll pay for the utilities and the caregiver until she leaves. After that, it's done," I said.

I turned to Dallas. "Take all your stuff with you. Unless I say so in writing, don't come back."

He stood up, finally looking panicked. "Kinley, hear me out. The marriage certificate is fake, but all these years—"

"The plane won't wait." I grabbed my suitcase, the broken wheel scraping against the floor, and walked out the door.

This time, Samuel didn't chase after me.

Before I got through airport security, Dallas had called me seventeen times.

I hung up on every single one and sent a notice to the property management about changing the access authorization.

When the boarding announcement came on, I put his, Charlotte's, and Samuel's numbers on Do Not Disturb.

The flight to Canginnia soared through the clouds.

I looked down and saw the city lights getting smaller and smaller, only then realizing I'd been clutching that record of no marriage registration the whole time.

The edge of the paper had cut my skin in my palm.