By noon, I'd made my decision.
We were leaving. Today. Before the media circus could get any worse, before they could dig deeper into our lives, before Noah had to see his mother's face on the evening news labeled as a home-wrecking gold digger.
I threw our belongings into two suitcases with shaking hands, trying to decide what was essential and what we could live without. Noah's dinosaur collection—essential. My college diploma—not so much. The hidden photo of Noah as a baby that I'd kept in my jewelry box—essential, even though looking at it now felt like staring at evidence of my own deception.
Mrs. Rodriguez had agreed to keep Noah until I could figure out our escape route. The reporters were still camped outside, but the building had a service exit that led to an alley. If I could
