“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Gregory lifted his hand.
I picked up the box.
That small movement changed something in me.
Eight months of explanations, reassurances, accusations, and doubts did not disappear.
But they stopped controlling the next decision.
I did not need to prove Gregory was the worst possible version of himself before I was allowed to leave.
I only needed to accept what he had already done.
He had handled my documents without permission.
He had arranged a purchase agreement involving my home.
He had pressured me for a signature.
He had monitored my location.
He had tried to isolate me from the two people most likely to challenge him.
And my daughter had been afraid to get off a bus because she believed he was waiting for us.
That was enough.
I put the agreement inside the box.
Gregory’s voice changed again.
