One week later, just as promised, Joshua came home.
Jane stood at the front door of their small rented house as he stepped out of the taxi, looking thinner, worn down, but smiling—relieved to be free.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her husband.
For a moment, she felt grounded again. But that moment passed too quickly.
Joshua Carlson may have walked out of jail, but the life they once lived did not follow him.
Their mansion was gone, seized as part of an ongoing investigation.
The cars, the private chefs, the maids, even her wardrobe—stripped away.
They had to let it all go. Now they lived in a modest house tucked into a quiet neighborhood, where the lights flickered slightly when the microwave ran and the air conditioning wheezed on hot days.
The bed was smaller. The walls thinner. And everything felt a little too real.
