But then Tyler let out a small, broken sound from the back seat.
And just like that—
I stopped.
I couldn’t act on anger.
Not with him there.
Not when his safety depended on me thinking clearly.
I crossed the street quietly and moved along the side of the house.
I knew every blind spot. I had installed the security system myself.
Through a narrow gap in the blinds, I looked inside.
What I saw wasn’t romance.
It was something far worse.
They were tearing the house apart.
Claire was opening drawers, ripping through cabinets, tossing cushions aside.
Searching.
Desperate.
Ryan stood near the fireplace.
Then he reached into his jacket—
and pulled out a handgun.
He placed it on the coffee table.
Right next to my chair.
My throat went dry.
This wasn’t an affair.
This was a plan.
Claire pulled a painting off the wall—the one of me, Megan, and Tyler at the park.
Behind it: the safe.
She entered the code.
It opened.
They began pulling out everything.
Property documents. Insurance policies. Business contracts.
I stood outside, alive…
while my wife divided my life with the man who was married to my daughter.
I stepped back.
Returned to the car.
Tyler didn’t ask anything.
He already knew.
“Let’s go somewhere safe,” I told him.