One message from Marjorie read:
“She’ll be working until late. Have the place ready before the inspector comes.”
Adrian replied:
“I’ll change the lock first. She can stay somewhere else.”
I stared at the screen.
Monica sat quietly beside me.
I scrolled down.
Marjorie had written:
“Don’t let her ruin this. She’s always made you feel like the guest.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, Marjorie had told Adrian that I didn’t respect him because the deed was in my name.
She called me arrogant.
Controlling.
Unwilling to share.
But I’d never prevented Adrian from making ordinary household decisions.
I’d never charged him rent.
Never threatened to remove him during an argument.
Never treated him like an outsider.
I’d simply retained ownership of property I’d purchased before our marriage.
He had interpreted that as humiliation.
And Marjorie had encouraged him.
I looked toward Monica.
“What would have happened if I hadn’t come home when I did?”
