PART 1 — THE TWENTY-DOLLAR GOODBYE
The night Grant drained our accounts, he left twenty dollars on the kitchen counter, opened the front door, and said, “Try not to spend it all in one place.”
Behind him, the house shone beneath lighting I’d selected. Vanessa Cross, his company’s CFO and evidently his mistress, wore my silk robe. Grant Bennett smiled like he’d closed a winning deal.
“The house is in my name,” he said. “The cars are in my name. You haven’t earned a real paycheck in years, Claire. What exactly are you going to fight me with?”
I stared at the two suitcases he had flung onto the porch. Seven years of marriage had been reduced to the clothes he allowed me to keep, my passport, and a single photograph of my mother. He had even removed my name from the insurance policy covering my car, leaving me with one
more problem to solve.
“Did you transfer the joint savings too?” I asked.
