I walked to the table and picked up my phone. I dialed the sheriff’s office before he could even reach for his keys. He watched me, his face turning that ugly shade of purple he got when he was mad, but he didn’t stop me. He knew I meant it.

I didn’t wait for the sheriff to arrive. I walked out the back door and headed toward the tractor shed. I had a lot of work to do, and for the first time, it was all for me.

My lawyer is coming tomorrow. The divorce papers are already being drafted. I don’t care about the farm anymore. I don’t care about the money. I just want to know who that little girl is, and why she has my name.

The house is quiet tonight. It’s too quiet. But for the first time in three decades, I am the only one living in it.