to a quiet, steely resolve. I would play his game, but by my own rules. I wouldn' t be a victim. I would

. I took down the designer dresses, the expensive shoes, the jewelry he had bought me, and packed them into boxes. Each item was a link in the chain that

en about our future, the dreams I had for our life together. For a moment, the pain was sharp and overwhelming. I saw the naive, hopeful woman I used to be, and I mourned for her. Then, I closed the book, my jaw set with determi

, using the savings I had secretly been stashing away for years. I found a top-rated care facility in a quiet town on the West Coast, a place that specialized in her c

me with a stack of papers for his new real estate project. He

tandard permits. Sign where the tabs a

e of the zoning permits and construction contracts was the one document I had prepared: the transfer and consent forms for my mother' s move to th

asked, my voice a mo

he line without a second glance. A wave of relief washed over me, so powerful it almost made my knee

confident in his control over me, that he never saw it coming. He would talk a

e should take that trip to Italy w

h in my mouth. I was already picturing the Pacific Ocean

ys before my planned departure, he a

" he said. "It' s important. A lot of my business

creep up my spine.

sistant," he said, the words sharp and clinical. "It' s jus

s party, not as his partner, but as his employee. He wanted to publicly downgrade our relat

ld smile spreading across my face

in my eyes. He thought he was finalizing his victory. He