‘There is nothing to talk about.’ Caro’s words are bumpy and hitched as she forces them out between heavy, hysterical sobs. ‘Why don’t you want a baby with me? Because you don’t love me? Is that why? Is that why you have people watching me all the time, moving my things? Is that your lover, the one you cheat on me with?’

‘I don’t have a lover,’ Rupert says, for the millionth time. He feels something inside him snap. ‘I don’t want a baby with you, Caro, because I don’t want to bring a child into this.’ The release is like a dam being broken and he couldn’t stop the words if he tried. ‘You drain me, Caro, your moods, the way you are tonight, I don’t ever want a baby with you because of how you are.’

He knows he’s hurting her, but he hurts too, and he doesn’t expect it when she flies at him, her hands going for his face, the rake of her nails along his neck. He tries to push her off, his hand catching her ear as she grabs for his throat and she’s just so strong. Panic and rage and fear – yes, rage that she could be such a bitch, a goddamn fucking bitch and fear that she’s going to really do something bad, really hurt him this time – overwhelm him and Rupert grabs her, his hands closing around her throat and there’s something just so satisfying about the give of her skin under his fingers and the way she finally, finally, stops shouting, as they both sink to the floor.

Rupert takes his hands from her throat, panting, his breath hurting in his chest as he looks down at Caro, her face pale and her eyes wide, the purple marks of his fingers already standing out against the alabaster white of her skin.

‘Caro?’ He whispers it, as if worried he’ll wake her and he waits a moment for her to blink, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. But she doesn’t. And Rupert feels a sick sense of dread start somewhere around his stomach, a whispered ‘fuck’ escaping his lips as he presses his fingers against her already cooling skin in search of a pulse.

The third thing Rupert sees as he stands in his study is the safe door, wide open and swinging. In two strides he is across the room, peering into the now empty safe, and realization begins to dawn. There was no glitch at the bank, there will be no compensation for inconvenience. He pulls out his phone and opens the app. Every bank account is empty. He covers his face with his hands as he remembers Emily, sitting at the kitchen table as he rushes around getting ready for work, waving a utility bill in his face.