5 days after the divorce, the mother-in-in-law asked: “Why are you still here?” I smiled calmly and and said, “Because this house was paid for with my money.” She went pale.

I told Trevor we were fine where we were.

He agreed—until the Brentwood house appeared on the market.

It was a probate sale from an elderly couple’s estate. The location was ideal, the lot was private, and the price was just low enough to ignite a bidding war. Trevor fell for it immediately, but there was one problem: he couldn’t afford it.

Not honestly.

His business had good years and bad years, and the year we found that house had mostly been bad. He was overleveraged, personally guaranteeing two commercial projects, and carrying more short-term debt than I realized at the time. The bank would finance the purchase—but only if we brought a much larger down payment.