At the top of the stairs, Sadie froze.
I saw Warren notice her.
I saw him choose not to stop.
“Do you think anyone in my family cared about your little government job?” he said. “Do you think they wanted some absent wife who disappeared for months and came back acting superior? You gave me daughters, Allison. Daughters. And then you expect my mother to pretend that’s enough.”
Sadie made a small sound.
Not a sob.
Something worse.
A sound like a door closing inside a child.
I walked to the stairs and looked up at her.
“Sadie,” I said softly, “take your sister into my room and close the door.”
She obeyed.
Only after I heard the latch click did I turn back to Warren.
“You’re done.”
He scoffed. “You don’t decide that.”
The doorbell rang.
Warren looked toward it, confused.
I opened the door.
Rowan Vale stood outside with a deputy sheriff and a woman from his office carrying a tablet.
Warren’s expression shifted from rage to alarm.
“What is this?”
Rowan stepped inside. “Service of notice.”
“For what?”
“Separation filing. Temporary financial injunction. Notice of forensic accounting. Demand for preservation of records. Civil claim regarding forged signatures. And a petition concerning custody.”
Warren stared at him.
Then he turned to me. “You planned this.”
“No,” I said. “I prepared for it.”
The deputy remained by the door, quiet and watchful.
Rowan handed Warren the packet.
