I drove Claire and the children to my home. Claire wept softly in the passenger seat.

I remained composed.

I’d spent thirty-two years handling commercial property disputes.

Claire glanced through the rear window. “He used to be kind,” she whispered.

“So did I,” I said.

That was the hardest part. Daniel hadn’t changed overnight. I’d watched ambition gradually become entitlement, convincing myself his success made him busy rather than cruel. That storm ended my excuses.

And my son had just handed me the simplest case of my career.

By morning, Daniel’s arrogance had returned.

He sent three texts.

Stay out of my marriage.

Claire is manipulating you.