"Aiden is furious," Mark spat through the receiver. "You don't just invent a dead dog to guilt-trip us."
"I'm not inventing anything," I said, hollow.
"Put Mom on speaker," Aiden's voice echoed in the background.
"She's on speaker," Mark said.
"Mom, this is psycho behavior," Aiden groaned. "You're literally trying to ruin my night because you're mad Dad went to Lily's recital."
"Buddy had a seizure," I said. "His organs failed. He's in a wooden box on the passenger seat of my car."
"Right," Mark scoffed. "And the vet handed you his ashes in the middle of the night? Stop lying, Kate. I'm pulling into the driveway. We're going to have a serious talk about your behavior tonight."
A car door slammed outside.
"I'll see you in a minute," Mark warned.
The line clicked dead.
I dropped the phone onto the desk. I grabbed the manila envelope and my duffel bag.
The front door unlocked. A metallic scrape echoed through the hall.
"Are you sure she's asleep?" Chloe giggled, her voice loud in the quiet house.
"Kate goes to bed at nine," Mark said. "She's probably pouting in the guest room. Just keep quiet."
"I want to see the master bedroom," Chloe whined playfully.
"Tomorrow," Mark promised. "Let me go deal with my crazy wife first."
I stood motionless in the dark office. My heart didn't race; my hands didn't shake. The trophy photo and the unbroken line on the monitor had burned away any desire to fight.
I turned my back to the hallway. I slipped through the kitchen and pushed the side door open. The hinges stayed silent. I stepped into the freezing backyard.
Gravel crunched under my sneakers as I reached the driveway, heading straight for my old SUV parked behind the overgrown hedges. It sat hidden from the front porch.
I popped the trunk, shoving the duffel bag and the envelope inside.
I climbed into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, a loud rumble cutting through the quiet suburban street.
I threw the gearshift into reverse, backing out onto the street.
I slammed my foot on the gas. The tires screeched against the asphalt.
"Hey!" a voice shouted from the porch. Mark stood under the yellow porch light, his eyes wide.
Without looking back, I followed the dark road through the headlights. In the rearview mirror, the lights of the house dwindled and disappeared.
My phone lit up the center console. The screen flashed a new incoming call. Mark's actual number.
I tapped the red icon. I opened the settings menu, navigated to the family sharing tab, and deleted my profile. The GPS tracker went dark.
The phone buzzed again. A text from Aiden.
"Where are you going? Dad is freaking out."
"None of your business," I whispered to the empty car.
I blocked both numbers. I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat next to the wooden urn.
At two in the morning, the flickering neon sign of a roadside motel washed the windshield red. I drove past it. I wasn't ready to stop.
