I looked at the four of them, a bizarre, predatory tableau arranged in the heart of my home. I reached out, slowly pinched the corner of the manila envelope, and dropped it onto the counter beside a stack of glossy grocery flyers.
“So,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “the grand strategy is to forcefully eject me from the premises less than twenty-four hours after I save you from financial ruin?”
Jason’s hazel eyes flared with sudden, defensive anger. “You didn’t save me. Let’s get that straight. You merely paid what you owed for being a dead weight. I carried you financially for the first three years of this marriage. You owed me this.”
Frank scoffed loudly, a harsh, dismissive sound that rattled the silence. “Enough debating. Go upstairs and pack your personal belongings. We’re moving in today. Brooke will be residing here with us. This house has more than enough square footage to accommodate a real family.”
I let my gaze slowly sweep the perimeter of the kitchen. I looked at the herringbone backsplash I had painstakingly installed over a long holiday weekend. I looked at the brushed brass fixtures I had imported from Italy. I looked at the framed, silver-plated photograph of Jason and me laughing outside the courthouse on our wedding day, sitting on the floating shelf.
