My name is Hannah Cole, and after my divorce, I chose to vanish.
Not to get revenge.
Not to spy on anyone.
Just to stay afloat.
When my husband of twelve years, Mark, left me for his coworker Lydia, he didn’t just walk away from the marriage—he walked off with the house, most of our savings, and the woman I used to recognize in the mirror. The court called the settlement “fair.” Somehow, that meant I kept the debt and a cramped studio apartment.
I cut my hair short, dyed it darker, stopped wearing makeup. I needed work that paid immediately and didn’t ask questions, so I became a night-shift taxi driver in Chicago. Long hours. Brief conversations. Faces that never looked at me long enough to remember.
That anonymity saved me.
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