Right after my husband left for his business trip, my six-year-old gripped my hand and quietly said, “Mom… we can’t go back home. This morning I heard Dad on the phone, talking about something that involves us and it didn’t sound right.” So we didn’t go back.

I hesitated at the door. “Why are you doing all of this for us?”

Sarah’s face softened for a moment. “Because your father saved my life when my own husband tried to hurt me,” she said.

“I know exactly what this feels like, Ayira,” she continued.

I stayed awake all night with Toby curled against me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the fire.

At dawn, Sarah knocked on the door. “Turn on the news,” she said.

We watched the footage of our house in silence. It was a blackened shell.

Then the camera cut to Dominic. He stood in front of the wreckage with a look of practiced horror on his face.

“My wife and my son were in there,” he sobbed for the cameras.

Then he asked a question that made my skin crawl. “Have you found the bodies yet?” he asked.

Sarah clicked the television off. “He is performing for an audience,” she said.

“Ayira, does Dominic have a safe in his home office?” she asked.

“Yes, it is hidden behind a bookshelf,” I replied.

“Do you know the code?” she pressed.

“It is his birthday,” I said.

Sarah nodded. “We need what is inside that safe before it disappears,” she said.

“The police are there,” I argued.