He was the ghost in their walls.
The man Richard had once built everything with.
The man Richard had pushed out when no one was looking.
The man the Whitmores had spent years pretending no longer mattered.
I still did not know why.
Not fully.
Not until the day I filed for divorce.
Nora told me to choose a day when the house would be lightly staffed and Evan would be caught off guard.
I picked a Thursday.
Cold.
Gray.
Unremarkable.
The perfect day to end a life no one respected.
I had packed two suitcases the night before and hidden them in the guest room closet behind winter blankets.
I wore a cream sweater, dark slacks, and the wedding band I planned to remove only after I had walked out the front door.
At ten past nine, Diane was outside with her roses.
At ten fifteen, Richard was in his study reviewing market reports.
