HE CAME HOME EARLY—AND HIS DAUGHTER WAS TOO AFRAID TO TELL HIM WHY

Beatriz stopped three feet from me.

I could see her through the gap in the panel.

She reached behind the server rack.

My heart hammered.

Her hand disappeared from view.

Then the low hum of the room stopped.

She had unplugged a backup drive.

She placed it in her purse and left.

I waited until the basement door closed upstairs.

Then I counted to sixty.

I stepped out shaking with rage.

But rage finally had shape.

Beatriz and Owen were working together.

The theft.

The surveillance.

The court plan.

And our anniversary mattered.

Leah explained why when I met her at the hotel.

"Your prenup changes after one year."

I stared at her.

"How?"

"Before the first anniversary, either spouse can leave with premarital property protected and limited support. After one year, there's a marital residence provision and a much larger support formula if one spouse claims coercive misconduct."

"I signed that?"

"You did."

I remembered barely reading it.

I had been in love.

Or in a hurry to believe I was.

Leah continued.

"If she files an emergency petition first, she could temporarily control the house while the facts are sorted out."

"And Isabella?"

"Beatriz is not her legal parent, so she can't simply take custody. But she can ask for temporary protective restrictions against you and position herself as a safe caregiver while the court evaluates."

"Using statements she forced Isabella to rehearse."

"Yes."

I stood and paced.

"I want her out tonight."

"No."

I stopped.

Leah did not blink.

"You throw her out now, she files immediately and claims retaliation."

"So I leave my daughter there?"

"No. You change the safety conditions without showing your hand."

That was when we built the second plan.

My sister Maya came to stay "because her apartment was being renovated."

She moved into the guest suite the next morning.

Beatriz hated it.

She hid that well.

"How fun," she said.

Maya smiled.

"I thought so."

Unlike me, Maya had never liked Beatriz.

She had once said, "She watches rooms instead of people."

I had called that jealousy.

Another failure to add to the list.

Maya's presence meant Isabella would never be alone with Beatriz.

My lawyer also arranged for a child therapist, Dr. June Ellis, to meet Isabella away from home under the pretext of grief support requested by the school.

No leading questions.

No coaching.

No Beatriz.

When I told Isabella in the garage dead zone, she looked terrified.

"Will Beatriz know?"

"Not from the house."

"What if she follows?"

"Aunt Maya will take you."

Isabella stared at me.

Then asked, "Are you mad at me for lying?"

The question punched through me.

"No."