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My karambit is sitting on the kitchen counter beside a half-taped box and a roll of packing tape.

For a second I just stare. The dickhead had been using my knife to seal moving boxes.

I pick it up and test the edge with my thumb. Blunt. Completely fucked.

If I wasn’t already planning to kill him, I would be now.

I move to the bedroom closet. His safe. The idiot hasn’t changed his pin since he was fourteen. Inside I find his spare gun and two loaded magazines. I take them without hesitation. He owes me a hell of a lot more than this.

At the very back is the first switchblade I ever gave him—small, with a worn wooden handle. I turn it over in my hand, remembering the first time he used it. He was all elbows and mouth, trying to act hard until he nicked an artery and got sprayed with blood. He nearly passed out right there in front of me.

My throat goes tight for half a second, which only pisses me off more.

I slip the switchblade into my pocket. It’ll be poetic, really. Ending him with this.

I’ll find him. Drew can run as far as he wants. After twenty years with that prick, I know exactly how he thinks—what he’ll avoid, what he’ll risk, where he’ll get sloppy. All the tricks in his playbook were mine first.

But Drew can wait.

This job can’t. Ray wants it done, and the sooner I get Carmen into bed, the sooner this whole mess ends. She turned me down once, but next time I’ll ask better.

I take one last, slow look around Drew’s apartment.

Then I leave.

5

CARMEN

It’s my first day at community college. I knew I’d be the oldest in the room, but I didn’t expect to be older than everyone else combined.

The classroom looks exactly as you’d imagine: tired beige walls, fluorescent lights humming overhead, and rows of clunky desks with attached chairs that make everyone look like they’ve outgrown them. There are only twelve of us. The next oldest student appears to be about twenty-three. Everyone else still carries that fresh-out-of-high-school glow.

My stomach has been doing anxious little somersaults since I woke up.

I know it’s probably ridiculous, going back to school at my age to finally earn my GED. But dropping out of high school has always been my biggest regret. So here I am.

I tuck my bag under the desk and slide into a seat near the middle of the room, trying to project far more confidence than I feel.

I’m wearing jeans, a plain white tee, and a soft beige cardigan. Nothing special. Nothing designer. After years of being married to Maverick, where every outfit had to be perfect and every appearance camera-ready, this feels like heaven. No one here expects me to look like a billionaire’s wife. I can just be me.

As the clock inches toward start time, I quickly pull out my phone and open the camera feed for Fifi. There she is, curled up asleep in her bed right where I left her. The sight loosens some of the tension in my shoulders.

I tuck the phone away just as the teacher walks in, and my stomach does one last nervous flip.

Here we go.

He’s in his mid-forties, wearing a navy plaid shirt and chinos. His smile is so wide and genuine it immediately puts me at ease. He sets his bag down and claps his hands together once.

“Welcome, everyone! I’m Paul Henderson, and I want you all to know how proud I am that you’re here. Education isn’t just about passing tests—it’s about opening doors you thought were locked. What you’re doing takes real courage, and I’m excited to be part of it with you.”

His warmth is instant. My shoulders drop. I already like him.

He starts by having us go around the room and share our names and why we’re here. The younger students give the usual answers—they flunked too many classes, need the credits, one girl dreams of becoming a nurse. Their reasons feel safe and straightforward.

Then it’s my turn.

I swallow hard. “I’m Carmen. I left my marriage last year and decided it was finally time to do something just for me. So here I am.”