I followed my fiancé into a hotel after he told me he was working late—and watched him put his arm around another woman before they disappeared into an elevator together.

The drive to Gary took forty-five minutes.

Vanessa called Sophia on the way, told her what was happening. Sophia was going to stay with Lily, keep her safe, call us the second she heard anything.

The police were already on their way.

But I knew Ethan.

I knew how he thought.

He would be fast.

Faster than the police could coordinate across state lines.

If we wanted to catch him, we had to get there first.

Vanessa drove like a woman possessed. We hit 90 on the highway, weaving in and out of traffic. I held onto the door handle, white-knuckled.

“Have you ever flown with him?” I asked.

“Once,” Vanessa said. “Last summer. We took Lily to Mackinac Island. He said it was a business expense, wrote it off. I thought it was romantic. I thought he was taking us on an adventure.”

She laughed bitterly.

“Turns out he was just practicing his escape route.”

We crossed into Indiana.

The jet center came into view.

Small planes lined the tarmac. Floodlights lit up the runway like a stage.

And there, by the hangars, was Ethan’s car.

The same one I had followed into the hotel parking lot six hours earlier.

“He’s here,” I said.

Vanessa pulled into the parking lot and cut the lights.

We sat there in the dark, watching.

A few minutes later, a figure emerged from the main building.

It was Ethan.

He was carrying a duffel bag. Dressed in dark clothes. He looked different without the smile, without the charm. Just a man running from his mistakes.

He walked quickly toward a small single-engine plane parked at the end of the tarmac.

He unlocked the hangar.

Started pulling chocks.

“We have to stop him,” I said.

Vanessa was already out of the car, pepper spray in hand.

I followed.

We ran across the tarmac, our shoes loud on the asphalt.

Ethan heard us.

He turned.

His face went white when he saw us.

“Claire? Vanessa? What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you,” Vanessa said. We stopped ten feet away. She held up the pepper spray. “Don’t move.”

Ethan held up his hands.

“Look, I left you the money—”

“The money?” I stepped forward. “You left us a fraction of what you stole. And a letter? You think a letter fixes anything?”

“I had no choice!” he shouted. “The feds were closing in! If I stayed, I would have lost everything. All of us would have lost everything!”

“There is no us,” Vanessa said. Her voice was shaking with rage. “There never was. There was just you. Using us. Using our daughter.”

At the mention of Lily, something in Ethan’s face cracked.

“I did it for her!” he yelled. “I did it for all of you! I wanted to give you the life you deserved! The nice house, the cars, the trips! I couldn’t do that on a salesman’s salary! So I improvised!”

“By lying?” I said. “By marrying three women? By stealing from your own family?”

“I was going to pay it back!” He was crying now. Actual tears. “Every penny! Once the big deal came through, I was going to pay everyone back and then—”

“Then what?” Vanessa demanded. “Pick one of us? Divorce the other two? Tell Lily her mommy wasn’t good enough? Or her other mommy? Or the other other mommy?”

The sirens started in the distance.

Getting closer.

Ethan’s head snapped toward the sound.

“You called the police,” he whispered. He looked at me. Betrayal written all over his face. “After everything we had. You called the police.”

“After everything you did,” I said, “I should have called them a year ago.”

The sirens were loud now.

Flashing lights appeared at the entrance to the jet center.

Ethan looked at the plane.

At us.

At the approaching police cars.

He made a decision.

He dropped the duffel bag and ran.

Straight for the plane.

“Stop him!” Vanessa screamed.

We both ran after him.

But Ethan was faster.

He reached the plane, jumped into the cockpit, and started the engine. The propeller roared to life, wind whipping our hair and clothes.

He started taxiing toward the runway.

Vanessa and I stood there, helpless, as the man who had destroyed all our lives prepared to fly away into the night.

And then, from out of nowhere, a car came screeching across the tarmac.

It was Sophia.

She had driven all the way from Chicago. Lily was strapped into the backseat, sound asleep.

Sophia didn’t slow down.

She drove straight across the runway, cutting Ethan off.

Ethan hit the brakes.

The plane skidded to a stop ten feet from her car.

The propeller winded down.

Sophia jumped out.

She was holding something in her hand.

Lily’s favorite stuffed rabbit.

“You forgot this,” she yelled at Ethan. “You forgot your daughter. Again.”

The police cars surrounded the plane.

Officers jumped out, guns drawn.

“GET OUT OF THE PLANE!” one of them shouted through a megaphone. “HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”

Ethan sat there for a long moment.

Staring at the three women who had once loved him.

Then he slowly climbed down.

Two officers rushed him, cuffed him, read him his rights.

He didn’t resist.

He just looked at us.

And for a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes.

Regret?

Sorrow?

Or was it just relief that it was finally over?

The officers led him to a car.

As they put him in the back, he called out.

“Tell Lily I love her! Tell her I’m sorry!”

Vanessa walked to the police car.

She leaned down so she could see him through the window.

“I’ll tell her her father is a coward,” she said. “I’ll tell her he chose money over his own daughter. And when she’s old enough to understand, I’ll tell her exactly what you did. To all of us.”

She stepped back.

The car pulled away.

Sirens wailing.

Lights flashing.

And then it was gone.

The four of us—Vanessa, Sophia, Lily, and me—stood alone on the tarmac.

The wind was cold.

Lily stirred in the backseat of Sophia’s car, then went back to sleep.

“What now?” Sophia asked.

I looked at Vanessa.

At Sophia.

At the little girl who was now, in some strange way, connected to all of us.