On the Tuesday he delivered his verdict, Leila set the table with their wedding china and the crystal candlesticks that only came out for anniversaries and good news. The salmon was pan-seared the way his mother had once taught her, asparagus blistered just enough, a $40 Cabernet breathing on the sideboard like patience itself. She had dressed for the moment—teacher-of-the-year blue, a shade that photographed well under warm light—and stood there listening to the garage door that didn’t open. Si

The champagne flutes lined up like a small army on the island. I’d staged them against the lake to catch the afternoon like proof. Derek had teased me for polishing the faucet—“No one looks at faucets, Clare”—and then kissed my temple anyway. Our daughter, three and fearless, wore sneakers with her favorite purple dress, because dignity is for grown-ups and playgrounds are always a possibility. “After years of saying not yet,” I told the room, “we finally get to say we did it. We bought our drea

There’s a precision to shock when it decides not to become tears. I photographed every room—blank walls, cabinet doors yawning like open mouths—then opened a spreadsheet and started typing. Item. Provenance. Price. Photo. Receipt. By the time the coffee finished, I had a list long enough to make a judge nod. Forty-three thousand dollars in carefully chosen life, documented to the dime. I called the police because that’s what you do when a house becomes an echo. Officer Rodriguez took one look, t