Chapter 4

The next morning, Alex put me in touch with a top lawyer, a woman named Ms. Albright, who specialized in complex domestic cases. The consultation was sobering. Ms. Albright reviewed the cohabitation agreement Mark had forced me to sign.

"This is designed to be punitive, Sarah," she explained, her tone serious. "It's heavily skewed in Mark's favor. If you leave without his documented consent, he could not only leave you destitute but potentially pursue legal action against you for breach of contract, fabricated or otherwise. He has the resources to make things very ugly."

My heart sank. Even with Alex's help, escaping Mark's legal web seemed almost impossible. But the thought of returning to him, of enduring more of his cruelty, was unbearable.

"I still want to proceed," I told Ms. Albright. "I need to formally end this."

She nodded. "Alright. We'll start drafting the papers to request a dissolution of the agreement. But be prepared, he won't make it easy."

Meanwhile, Mark and Jessica were anything but discreet. A so-called "friend" from our old social circle, probably at Mark's subtle prompting, started sending me screenshots of their tropical vacation. Mark and Jessica, all smiles, posing on a yacht, champagne flutes in hand. One particular post stung deeply. It was a picture of them kissing, with Mark's caption: "The one who isn't loved is the third wheel."

The casual cruelty of it, the public flaunting of his new life while I was still reeling from his abuse, was a fresh stab of pain. He was making sure I knew I was replaced, discarded. Alex's offer of Napa, of a safe haven, felt more vital than ever. I clutched the burner phone he'd given me, a lifeline to a different future.