I had opened it at 2:17 a.m. because Marcus had fallen asleep in his study with his laptop unlocked and a glass of bourbon sweating beside a printed draft of our separation agreement.
Savannah had written four sentences.
Marcus, if Emily keeps the baby, the trust timeline gets messy. Bennett says there are cleaner ways if she signs before delivery. I’m not raising our son in the shadow of her mistake. Fix it.
Our son.
Her mistake.
Fix it.
I did not print the email.
I did not forward it.
I did not wake him up and throw the laptop across the room like a scene from a cheap streaming drama.
I took a photograph with the old phone Marcus didn’t know I kept charged in the laundry room.
Then I put everything back exactly where I found it.
