Chapter 2 - My Name on the Deed
I answered immediately.
As fast as legally possible.
Rachel called me before I could close the laptop.
“Claire?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s after one in the morning.”
“I know.”
“That usually means either someone is dead or someone finally crossed a line.”
I looked toward the bedroom.
“Second one.”
Rachel had represented me when Eric and I signed our prenup.
She knew the house better than my husband did.
My father died when I was twenty-nine and left me a modest inheritance. I combined it with years of savings and bought the four-bedroom house outside Boston before prices exploded.
Eric moved in after our wedding.
The mortgage had already been paid off.
He contributed toward utilities and groceries, but legally the house had always remained mine.
Rachel asked, “Does Eric know you’re considering selling?”
“No.”
“Does anyone?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That word surprised me.
“Good?”
“People behave differently once they know leverage is disappearing.”
I leaned back.
“I don’t want revenge.”
“Then what do you want?”
I thought about Diane throwing out my food.
Madison ordering packages to my address without asking.
Eric watching his mother rearrange my kitchen.
Then I remembered his voice.
Watch your mouth.
“I want my life back.”
Rachel went quiet.
“Then don’t threaten them,” she said. “Don’t announce anything. Don’t use the house as leverage. If you’re serious, we do this correctly.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then I’ll contact a broker tomorrow.”
After we hung up, I returned the documents to the box.
Eric moved in bed when I entered the bedroom.
“You coming to sleep?”
“Yeah.”
He rolled away.
No apology.
No shame.
Nothing.
The next morning, Diane was already in my kitchen.
She had labeled three shelves in the pantry.
BABY.
MADISON.
FAMILY.
My food had been squeezed onto one shelf near the floor.
I stared at the labels.
Diane noticed.
“I organized things.”
“So I see.”
“You’re welcome.”
I poured coffee.
Madison walked in wearing one of my bathrobes.
My bathrobe.
I looked at her.
She followed my eyes.
“Oh. Mine was in the wash.”
“You could’ve asked.”
She laughed.
“For a robe?”
“For my things.”
Eric entered behind her.
“Claire, come on.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Don’t start another fight over nothing.”
There it was.
Nothing.
My home.
My belongings.
My boundaries.
Nothing.
I smiled.
“You’re right.”
Diane looked pleased.
Eric kissed my forehead.
“Thank you.”
I almost laughed.
At 10:30, my phone buzzed.
Rachel.
Broker can come Thursday at 11:00. Can everyone be out?
I looked toward the kitchen.
Diane was explaining where she wanted to place a bottle sterilizer.
Madison was browsing nursery curtains on her phone.
Eric had gone upstairs.
I typed back.
They’ll be out.
Then Madison looked up.
“Oh, Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Mom and I talked. We think the basement would be better for you as an office.”
I slowly put my phone down.
“Why?”
“Because after the baby comes, I’ll need your office as a second nursery.”
For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard her.
“My office?”
Diane entered.
“It makes sense.”
I stared at both women.
Then something inside me became perfectly calm.
“Sure,” I said.
Madison smiled.
“Really?”
May you like
“Absolutely.”
Because by Thursday morning, a real estate broker would be measuring the room they had already decided to steal from me.
