“Good. Listen to me carefully. Do not go back in there and create a scene. Tonight is for safety and documentation, not confrontation. You understand?”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“I want him to feel it,” I admitted.
“Then do it the way that lasts,” she said. “Paper trails. Court orders. Consequences. You want clean? We do clean. You want ruthless? We do it legally.”
I let my head rest against the seat.
“What do I do?”
“Hotel first. Use your personal card, not the joint account. Send me the evidence from the burner email you used.”
I opened my eyes. “How did you know I used a burner?”
“Because you’re not stupid. Also because I know you.”
A laugh almost escaped me and turned into something like a sob.
Maya continued. “Tomorrow morning, we move fast. Passwords, documents, banking, direct deposit. I file for temporary orders—exclusive use of the house if you want it, financial restraints so he can’t drain accounts, and no harassment language if necessary. But you cannot talk to him tonight. You cannot send a paragraph. You cannot ask why. Liars love why. Why gives them a stage.”
“What about Tessa?”
“Not tonight.”
“She was in my house.”
“I know.”
“Under my blanket.”
“I know.”