me, or exercise standing permissions over protected accounts.
Transactions involving delegated access would be reviewed, and the trust would communicate through my attorney.
Cole called Mr. Harris.
No answer.
Then he called me again.
His voicemail arrived while Noah slept in his car seat.
“Lauren, this has gone far enough.”
I stared at my screen.
He’d returned from another woman’s hotel suite to find his family gone, yet somehow believed I had crossed the line.
More voicemails followed.
“You cannot take my children and disappear.”
“We’re married.”
“Whatever you think
