She only knew the version of the story she had told herself for eight years.

The truck was loaded.

At the front door, Felix turned toward me.

“I hope someday you find someone who deserves what you have.”

He wasn’t being cruel.

He genuinely thought he was offering me kindness.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

He nodded.

He climbed into the truck.

Lucia sat in the passenger seat.

And they drove away.

I stood alone inside the nearly empty house.

The rooms were quiet.

The furniture was gone.

But the house remained.

I pulled out my phone.

And I called Diana.

She answered on the second ring.

“It happened.”

“When?”

“They just drove away.”

There was a pause.

Then:

“Good.”

Another pause.

“Rachel, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have everything ready?”

“Yes.”

“Come to my office tomorrow at nine.”

“I’ll be there.”

“We’re going to handle this properly.”