That night, I didn’t argue.
I didn’t raise my voice.
I didn’t demand explanations.
And that confused Mia more than anger ever could.
People like Mia knew how to fight.
They knew how to cry.
How to accuse.
How to turn every confrontation into a performance.
What they didn’t know how to handle was silence.
After helping Elena eat her first real meal in days, I sat beside her until she fell asleep.
Then I went to my home office.
And started looking.
Bank accounts first.
Credit card statements second.
Household expenses third.
Within an hour, I understood why the refrigerator was empty.
