“Miss Sarah, the car is ready.” Autos& Vehicles
Through the lobby windows, a black Mercedes waited at the curb.
Bradley shot to his feet. “Who is paying for this?”
I took Madison and Connor by the hands.
“From this moment on,” I said, “the children and I will never interfere with your new life.”
Then I walked out.
Inside the car, the driver handed me a sealed envelope. Inside were bank records, transfer receipts, and photos of Bradley and his mistress, Tiffany, signing papers for a luxury condo—the same condo my parents had helped us buy when we first married.
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from my lawyer, Harrison.
The trap is set. They just walked into the clinic.
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