I called the number from a coffee shop three blocks from the Cole estate. Used the burner phone. Kept my voice low.

"I need to reach Maisy O'Brien."

The woman on the other end—my lawyer's assistant—didn't ask questions. "She's expecting contact. I'll pass along a secure line."

Two hours later, the burner buzzed. Unknown number.

I answered.

"Selene." Maisy's voice. I hadn't heard it in six years. It sounded older. Steadier.

I said nothing.

"I know what I did," she said.

Four words. That was all she gave the past.

Then she kept talking. "There's a flat in Kensington. Already furnished. Lease is under a trust name he can't trace. I've booked a flight for the fourteenth. Direct to Heathrow. First class. Ticket's in your legal name—he'll see it eventually, but not until you're gone. I'm wiring funds to an account your lawyer set up. Enough for six months. Maybe more if you're careful."

I pressed my burned hand against the coffee shop table. The cool laminate helped.

"Why," I said.

"Because I owe you more than this. And this is all I can give."

I closed my eyes. "The fourteenth."

"I know," she said.

The line went dead.

I sat there for another twenty minutes. Finished my coffee. Deleted the call log. Walked back to the estate.

Nobody noticed I'd been gone.

The circus was Rylan's idea. Some traveling VIP event. Big top in the Hamptons. Private evening for families with the right last names.

Demi thought it would be good for Finley. "He's been working so hard," she told Rylan over breakfast. "He deserves something fun."

Rylan agreed. He always agreed with her.

I wasn't invited. Not directly. But Rylan mentioned it in passing the night before. "You're welcome to come. If you're feeling up to it."

I said I was.

We drove out in two cars. Rylan and Demi in the first. Finley between them. Me in the second with Marcus at the wheel.

The big top was red and gold. Lights strung across the entrance. Waiters in white jackets carrying trays of champagne. Inside, velvet chairs arranged in curved rows. A ring in the center. Sawdust and spotlights.

Finley's eyes went wide. Demi held his hand. Rylan put his arm around her shoulders.

I sat three rows back.

The show started with acrobats. Then horses. Then a man who juggled fire. Finley clapped. Demi leaned close and whispered something. He laughed.

I watched the exit.

The lions came out twenty minutes in. Three of them. Golden and huge. A trainer in a red coat cracked a whip. The lions circled. Jumped through hoops. The crowd applauded.

Then something went wrong.

I didn't see what. A latch. A gate. Something metal snapping. But suddenly one of the lions was out of the ring. Then another.

People screamed. Chairs scraped. The trainer shouted.

The crowd surged toward the exits. Bodies pressed together. Champagne glasses shattered on the ground.

I stood. Looked for Finley.

He was frozen. Middle of the aisle. Demi had let go of his hand in the rush. He was staring at the lion moving toward him. Not running. Not moving. Just staring.

I didn't think.

I ran.

I hit him low. Wrapped my arms around his body. We went down together. I rolled so my back took the impact. Curled over him. Made myself the largest thing between him and everything else.

The lion's weight hit my shoulders. Claws raked across my back. I felt the fabric of my dress tear. Felt heat. Felt pressure.

I didn't move.

Finley was shaking under me. I pressed my hand over his head. Held him against my chest.

"Don't look," I whispered. "Don't look. I've got you."

Somewhere in the chaos, I heard Rylan's voice. Shouting. But not close.

I turned my head slightly. Saw him across the tent. He was carrying Demi. Her arms around his neck. Her face buried in his shoulder. He was moving toward the exit. Fast. Focused.

He didn't look back.

The trainers got the lions under control. Nets. Tranquilizers. It took four minutes. Maybe five.

When it was over, I let go of Finley. Slowly. My back was on fire. I could feel blood soaking through my dress.

Finley sat up. His face was white. He looked at me. Really looked at me. For the first time in months.

"You're bleeding," he said.

I nodded. "I'm okay."

Rylan came back then. He was still holding Demi. He set her down carefully. Checked her face. Her arms. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. Tears on her cheeks. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

Then he looked at me. At Finley.

"What happened."

I stood. Slowly. My legs were shaking. "The lion. It came at him. I—"

"You should have called for help."

I stared at him.

"You could have made it worse," he said. "You're not trained for—"

"I'm his mother."

The words came out quiet. Flat.

Rylan's jaw tightened. "Selene—"

"I don't love you anymore," I said.

The tent had gone quiet. People were watching. Medics were arriving. Someone was talking to the trainers.

But in that moment, it was just Rylan and me.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

I looked at him. At his face. At the man I'd spent six years loving. Six years trying to be enough for.

"I don't love you," I said again. "I don't think I even like you."

I turned. Walked toward the exit. My back screamed. My legs shook.

Behind me, Finley said something. I didn't hear what.

I kept walking.

Marcus drove me back. He didn't ask questions. Didn't speak.

I sat in the back seat and pressed my forehead against the window.

The fourteenth was in nine days.