Your ex-husband Vallow put his sports car parking it on the side of the street and slipped out of the drivers seat, closing the door and locking it behind him. It was his turn to take your daughter Amanda for the week, so here he was.

He walked across the busy sidewalk with some attractive single moms flirted with him and made his way into your building. The brown haired man took an elevator up to the 6th floor and made his way down the hallway to your room number.

“Apartment…6A,” he uttered, knocking on your apartment door.