He handed me a temporary passport, a pre-configured smartphone, and a first-class ticket home departing from Phuket in three hours.
I sat in the airport lounge, looking at the two crumpled notes resting beside my coffee cup.
Julian and Evelyn had assumed that taking my phone and passport rendered me non-existent.
They had relied on my silence, my orphan status, and my perceived isolation.
They thought that without a husband, I had no standing, no backup, and no voice.
They had forgotten who I was before I married into their precious family.
I tapped the screen of the satellite phone.
Martin’s voice came through instantly.
“Nora. The legal framework is locked,” he said. “Federal marshals, child protective services, and a court-appointed family law advocate are currently assembling at Terminal 4 in Los Angeles. The moment Julian steps off that jet bridge, his reality terminates.”
I smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper holding Evelyn’s handwriting.
