It was the occupancy agreement he had signed on the day we closed on the house.
His signature sat at the bottom of every page.
Laura’s too.
Neither of them had bothered reading more than the first paragraph back then. They were too excited about the marble floors, the backyard pool, the nursery overlooking the garden. They trusted me completely.
Or perhaps they simply assumed that a mother would never protect herself.
Michael flipped through the pages with shaking hands.
« What is this? » he whispered.
« You signed it, » I answered calmly.
Continue on the next page:
