The night my husband threw me out for his “new wife,” he thought I was leaving with nothing but three suitcases. “Go back to your parents,”

But he’d overlooked something crucial.

I’d never been just his wife.

“I understand,” I said.

Vanessa arched an eyebrow. “That’s it? No screaming?”

“No.”

Daniel seemed disappointed. “You’re going to your parents. I’ll have someone bring the rest of your things later.”

“Don’t bother.”

I went upstairs.

I filled three suitcases with clothes, photographs, my laptop, and a small wooden box holding Mom’s letters.

Then I opened the safe.