In the end, Ethan released the chair.
As my caregiver pushed me past, he lifted one hand as though he meant to stop me, then pulled it back before touching the wheelchair.
"Claire Bennett."
I kept my eyes on the elevator doors and did not answer.
He was still standing there when the doors slid closed. Dirty water from my room stained the cuff of his suit, and his face was grim, but he clearly believed I was only throwing a tantrum.
After moving into the residence arranged by Westbridge Rehabilitation Center, I dismissed the caregiver he had hired, changed my phone number, and instructed my attorney to stop every payment he had been making on my behalf.
I did not take a single thing from our old apartment.
Ethan showed up that same evening.
A staff member stopped him outside. "Ms. B
