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He had planned this so carefully.
He’d faked an injury, sent me and the girls away, and spent thousands on a private escape. All so he could have what?
No.
So he could disappear from our marriage without actually leaving.
I stood, turned off the kitchen light, and headed down the hall.
Tomorrow, I’d decide what came next. Lawyers maybe.
Or counseling. Or something else entirely.
Tonight, it was enough to know this: He didn’t need a break.
He needed an exit.
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