I slid the cardboard coaster across the small café table.
"I'm not doing it, Silas," I said into the phone.
"You're walking away?" Silas asked, his tone sharpening.
"I'm letting them think they won."
I ended the call. Opening the airline app on my screen, I selected a one-way ticket to Chicago. Departure: three hours from now. If Marcus and Elliott believed I was fleeing the city, they would accelerate their plans. They would get sloppy.
An hour later, I stood in the center of my apartment. The living room felt hollow. I dragged a hard-shell suitcase onto the mattress and unzipped it.
My phone vibrated against the nightstand.
The screen flashed Caleb's name. A voice message.
I tapped the play icon.
"Mom, it's me," Caleb's voice filled the quiet bedroom. He didn't sound remorseful. He sounded impatient. "Dad said you're leaving. Good. But you need to sign over the title to the summer house and the remaining joint accounts. Just transfer those useless things you still have under your name. It makes it easier for Aunt Jade to manage the estate planning."
The audio cut out.
I pressed the cold metal of the phone against my ear. I stood there for a long time, the silence ringing in the empty room.
My left wrist throbbed. I looked down at the crescent scar. Under the harsh bedroom light, the raised skin turned a sickly, translucent pale. I bled for seventy-two hours to keep him alive. Now, he wanted me stripped bare to build a throne for the woman who took my place.
I tapped the microphone icon.
"I know," I said.
I hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed.
Turning back to the suitcase, I folded my clothes into the main compartment. I didn't pack photos. I didn't pack memories. From my purse, I pulled out the yellowed cashier's check stub for two million dollars. Next to it, I placed the printed copy of Renata's red alert medical report.
I laid both documents flat on top of my folded sweaters.
The airport terminal smelled of stale coffee and floor wax. I sat at Gate 14, my boarding pass clutched in my right hand.
"Flight 482 to Chicago is now boarding all zones," the gate agent announced through the overhead speaker.
Passengers shifted, grabbing their bags and forming a line. I stood up, gripping the handle of my carry-on.
My phone lit up.
Renata.
I swiped to answer. "I'm boarding my flight, Renata."
"Don't get on the plane," she said, the background noise on her end chaotic. "Caleb is at the company, and the lunar phase ramped up early."
