Chapter 2 - The Art of Disappearing
“Why?” Trevor echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. “Naomi, you don't even like projects like that. You’ll start it, get overwhelmed, and leave half the wall bare for three months like you always do.”
He rolled over, his back to me, dismissing me with the flick of a blanket.
I didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. I stared at the back of his head and felt a cold, sharp thrill slice through my veins. Always underestimate the woman who is already walking out the door.
The next morning, while Trevor was at the office, the transformation began.
I didn’t call a moving company. I didn’t rant to my mother. Instead, I called Marcus.
Marcus was my former senior partner at the architectural firm downtown—a brilliant, fiercely loyal friend who had attended our wedding and spent years shaking his head whenever I mentioned Trevor’s controlling tendencies. When I told him what I found, there was a heavy silence on the line, followed by a low, murderous growl.
“I’m coming over,” Marcus said.
“No,” I replied, my voice steady. “You’re sending the truck. And you’re bringing the papers.”
By Thursday morning, Trevor’s bags were packed. He stood in the front hallway, looking impossibly handsome in his tailored suit, smelling of expensive cologne. He gave Bailey a perfunctory pat on the head and kissed my cheek with the dry, transactional affection of a man checking items off a checklist.
“Call me when you land,” I said, playing my part to perfection. My eyes fluttered, heavy with fake sadness. “I’m going to miss you, Trev.”
“It’s ten days, babe. You’ll survive,” he smirked, adjusting his Rolex. “Try not to let the house fall apart while I’m gone.”
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The door clicked shut.
The moment his Uber turned the corner, the clock started ticking. I had exactly ten days to dismantle a decade of my life, liquidate a fortune he thought belonged solely to him, and vanish off the face of the earth.
