She zipped the bag closed, her hands pausing on the canvas fabric as doubt clawed at her ribs. She ran a hand through her damp hair, exhaling shakily. Was she really doing this? The weight of her decision settled over her like a shroud, suffocating and absolute. Her fingers wrapped tightlyaround the straps of the bag, as if she could squeeze certainty from it. She drew in a nervous breath.
Just a few days. That’s all she needed. With resolve that felt fragile but necessary, she threw on jeans and a sweater and forced herself to breathe. This isn’t forever. It’s just a break.
Her fingers hesitated over her phone before her mouth firmed and she dialed her lawyer. She wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing while the walls closed in on Titus. The call was answered on the secondring.
“Jazz?”
“Transfer everything,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “All of it. Every cent of my inheritance into Titus’s account.”
There was a brief pause before the lawyer responded carefully, “I’ll need your authorization and a signed transfer request. Do you want me to send it to your email?”
“Yes. Right now. I’ll sign and send it backimmediately.”
“Understood. But you know once this goes through, you won’t be able to—”
“I know,” she cut in. “Just do it.”
The moment she hung up, aconfirmation email appeared on her screen. Jazz quickly signed, her hands only trembling when it was finished. There. It was done. Whatever was coming, Titus wouldn’t face it alone.
And neither would she.
With that, she grabbed her keys and walked out the door. The evening air hit her like a slap—cold, biting, bracing. The door clicked shut behind her, the finality of it echoing in the quiet, like a chapter closing. She exhaled, her breath visible in the chilled air, and forced herself tomove.
THE MOMENTJazz pulled into the driveway, the pain in her chest eased just a little. The house was the same as it had always been—white with blue shutters, slightly weathered but warm and welcoming. The porch light was on, casting a soft glow against the early eveningsky.
She hadn’t even made it to the front steps before the door swungopen.
“Jazz?” Lily’s voice was full of surprise.
Jazz swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Hey.”
Lily didn’t hesitate. She crossed the porch in two quick strides and wrapped her arms around her. Jazz let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, sagging against her sister.
“What happened?” Lily asked softly, not lettinggo.
Jazz shook her head. “I just… I needed to get away for a little while.”
Lily pulled back just enough to study her, eyes sharp, the green and gold flecks in her hazel gazepractically glowing. She looked like a fairy, delicate and ethereal, with her tousled, streaked blonde hair and dimples that could charm anyone into thinking she was harmless. But Jazz knew better. Lily was reading her, analyzing, already working through every possibility, calculating the angles like the strategist she was. Jazz had never been able to lie to Lily, and tonight wouldn’t be any different.
But before she could answer, another voice cut through the quiet.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Jazz stiffened.
Sam.
Her father stood in the doorway, looking pale and drawn, his usual bravado missing. He had a drink in his hand—of course he did—but the way his fingers clenched around the glass told her everything she needed toknow.
Something was wrong.
“Why not?” Jazz asked, her voice steadier than shefelt.
She didn’t wait for an answer. Brushing past him, she steppedinside, letting the familiar scent of home wrap around her—warm vanilla, aged wood, and the faintest trace of Lily’s lavender perfume. The house was just as it had always been, aplace of chaotic comfort, worn-in furniture arranged around a fireplace that had seen better days. The walls, once pristine, bore the marks of childhood—scuffs from thrown shoes, faint crayon traces near the baseboards where no amount of scrubbing had erased old memories.
But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the house wasn’t just home. It was a battlefield. The air was thick with unspoken words, the tension settling into the cracks of the worn wooden floors like an invisible force pressing down on her chest. The warmth of the space felt suffocating instead of comforting, and every familiar scent felt out of place against the dread gnawing at hergut.
The walls that had once been her sanctuary now felt like barriers closing in, filled with the ghosts of conversations left unsaid. And standing in the middle of it all, her father, with his bleary eyes and tremblingfingers, felt like both the cause and the casualty of the war she was walkinginto.
