Because Adrian still occupied Unit 2902.
And Marjorie had apparently decided she belonged there too.
Monica filed the necessary court papers seeking temporary relief concerning access to the residence, preservation of property, and restrictions on unauthorized transactions.
We also began divorce proceedings.
I hadn’t imagined ending my marriage this way.
I thought there would be a conversation.
Maybe counseling.
A sad discussion about how we’d grown apart.
Instead, our marriage had turned into a legal dispute involving a locksmith, a disputed loan application, and a company my husband operated with his mother.
When Adrian was served, he called me immediately.
I didn’t answer.
He sent a message.
“You’re destroying my reputation.”
I stared at it.
Then saved a copy.
An hour later, another appeared.
“You don’t understand what I’m trying to build.”
I didn’t respond.
Then he wrote:
“We could’ve been rich.”
I closed my eyes.
That was the first time he’d said it plainly.
