There was a difference.
A mistake happened once.
A plan required meetings.
Documents.
Signatures.
A mistress.
A fraudulent transfer.
And an airport conversation about destroying my life.
The officers guided him toward the door.
“Claire.”
I looked at him one last time.
“Goodbye, Adrian.”
Then they took him outside.
THE HOUSE WAS STILL MINE
I watched the police vehicle pull away down the driveway.
Red and blue lights flickered across the trees.
The afternoon clouds were beginning to break.
Warm light spilled over the porch.
Marcus stepped outside beside me.
He rested one hand on my shoulder.
“You alright?”
I looked across the yard.
At the oak trees my father planted thirty years earlier.
At the porch where we used to sit on summer evenings.
At the house Adrian had believed was already his.
“My father used to say people reveal themselves when they think nobody can stop them.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
