Audrey had never wanted to be a housewife. Not really. Not in the way Danielle imagined. To her, a woman with her skills, instincts, and mind should be out there, proving herself, showing the world the sharp edge of what she could do. Sitting at home, waiting for life to pass her by, was a waste—a betrayal of everything she had trained for, every ounce of energy she had poured into mastering her craft.
Danielle didn't know the half of it. Neither did Margaret. They had no idea about the plan that had been simmering quietly in the back of Audrey's mind for months—her divorce. She hadn't told them, not at dinner, not in passing. She didn't want them to worry, to fuss, or to try to talk her out of it. She had learned long ago that people could only hinder what they didn't understand.
