PART 1
The front door flashed red the second I entered my own passcode.

Three days after giving birth, still sore, exhausted, and holding my newborn daughter against my chest, I stood outside the house I had paid for and realized my husband had locked me out.

Rain ran down the glass door. My hospital bag sat beside my swollen feet. I called Daniel again and again.

On the third call, he finally answered.

Laughter echoed behind him.

“Daniel,” I whispered. “The code isn’t working.”

Then I heard his mother in the background.

“Oh, she’s outside?”

Daniel sighed. “I changed it.”

My chest tightened. “You changed the passcode while I was in the hospital?”

“You needed boundaries, Claire,” he said coldly. “Mom thinks you’ve been acting too comfortable, like this place belongs to you.”

I looked up at the glowing windows, the balcony, the nursery I had decorated myself.

“It does belong to me,” I said.

He laughed. “You’re emotional. You just had a baby.”

Then I heard music. Waves. His sister shouting, “Tell her we’re already at the resort!”

“You went on vacation?” I asked.

“Mom needed a break from your drama,” Daniel replied. “We’re in Cabo for ten days. Go stay with your sister.”

“Our daughter is three days old.”

“Then be a mother and figure it out.”