Chapter 3

"Fine," I said, standing up. "The apartment is David's. I'm leaving with nothing."

Mavis looked stunned for a second, like she never expected me to agree so easily. "Are you serious?"

"I'm serious," I replied.

Mavis's expression softened a little, and her tone wasn't as harsh anymore. "Good, you finally know your place."

As she turned to leave, she couldn't help but throw in one last remark. "Don't worry, after the divorce, we won't leave you high and dry. We'll give you 600 dollars so you can find somewhere to live."

600 dollars. She probably thought that was some kind of charity.

I didn't say a word and watched her walk out.

As the door closed, I looked around the place.

I picked out the chandelier in the living room myself.

The curtains in the bedroom were the ones I put up.

The flowers on the balcony were planted by me.

And the apartment itself? It was mine.

David and Mavis both had no idea.

They thought they were being generous to me.

They had no idea that every day they spent under that roof, every bit of air‑conditioning they ran, and every drop of water they used belonged to me.

*****

On the day we signed the divorce agreement, David brought Sophie along for the show.

The whole family was parked in the living room.

Mavis, David, Sophie, and Jessica, who rushed over as soon as the gossip hit.

I sat alone, facing them all. Four against one.

Jessica was the first to pop off. "Laura, don't take this the wrong way, but you have some responsibility for how your marriage ended up like this. If you were more competent, would David have needed to look elsewhere?"

I stared right at her.

She was wearing a flashy new coat, probably cost a fortune.

Last month, she hit me up for 6,000 dollars, said she needed it to tide her over, promised she'd pay it back before month-end.

Month'd come and gone, not a penny returned, but now she was here playing defense for her brother.

"Jessica," I said, "about that 6,000 dollars you borrowed—"

"What 6,000 dollars?" she cut me off, acting outraged. "Don't try to play me. When did I ever borrow money from you? Got proof?"

Watching her lie so effortlessly, suddenly I lost all interest in arguing.

6,000 dollars to buy my freedom from a snake.

Honestly? Worth it.

"Fine, you never borrowed it," I said.

Jessica flashed a smug smirk.

David slid the divorce agreement my way. "Go on, sign it."

I lowered my eyes to look.

Property division: Apt. 603 Oakridge Tower, Westside Avenue, belonged to David.

I looked up at him. "You sure this apartment is yours?"

"What are you getting at?" David frowned. "Of course, it's mine. The deed says—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

I caught a flicker of doubt in his eyes, like something dawned on him.

"It must have my name on it," he replied, but even he sounded uncertain.

"Is that so?" I said.

I pulled out a file folder from my bag and started laying out the contents on the table, piece by piece.

It was the deed.

"This apartment," I said, placing the deed down, "is registered to Laura Bennett. That's me."

David was frozen.

Mavis was stunned too.

Jessica and Sophie traded nervous looks.

"No way. That's impossible." David snatched up the deed, inspecting it over and over. "How is this possible? This apartment is—"

"Is what?" I shot back. "When did you buy it? How much was the down payment? What was your mortgage? How much did you pay every month?"

David couldn't say a thing, because he'd never bought it.

Five years ago, he wanted to get married but didn't have money for an apartment. I told him it was fine. I had a vacant apartment, and he could move in.

He said he shouldn't.

I said it was fine. We were family.

And so, he moved right in.

Five years living here.

Five years, acting entitled.

Now he was telling me this apartment was his?

"You tricked me?" David glared at me, furious.

"When did I ever say this apartment belonged to you?" I fired back. "That was all in your head."

His face turned beet red.

Mavis finally piped up, wailing, "No. David has lived here for five years. Even if your name's on the deed, he should get half."

I looked at her, calm as ever. "Mrs. Turner, legally, anything that's owned before marriage stays separate. Divorce doesn't change that."

"Forget your laws." Mavis slammed the table. "David supported you five years, and you never gave him a dime. Where's your conscience?"

"Supported me?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Mrs. Turner, you've all lived rent-free in my apartment for five years.

"Every month, I handed you 1,000 dollars as living expenses, and every year I bought you clothes and gifts. So tell me, who's really supporting who?"

Mavis suddenly lost her voice.

David kept staring at the deed, looking shell-shocked.

"This can't be," he muttered under his breath.

"Don't believe me?" I took out another document. "Purchase contract, signed 2015. Buyer: Laura Bennett. Back then, you hadn't even met me."

David went pale as a ghost.

Sophie blurted out, "David, is she telling the truth? You didn't buy this apartment?"

David said nothing.

He couldn't.

The truth was staring him right in the face.

The "new place" he bragged about was never his.

The home he spent five years in? Its deed got someone else's name on it.

He said he'd take care of me, but it turned out to be a punchline.

"So," I said, gathering the deed, "I'm reclaiming my apartment."

David snapped, "You—"

"You have three days to move out," I said, rising to my feet. "After three days, I'm changing the locks."

David sprang up angrily. "Laura, don't go too far."

"Too far?" I stared him down. "David, you cheated, you wanted the divorce, and you insisted I leave with nothing. Now I'm just taking back what's mine. And you tell me I'm going too far?"

He was speechless.

Mavis rushed forward, trying to grab the deed out of my hand.

I stepped back, dodging easily.

"Mrs. Turner," I said, "this apartment is my inheritance from my father, and it has nothing to do with your family. If you try and snatch it, I'll call the cops right now."

Mavis's hand froze in mid-air.

I looked around at the room full of them, and felt sheer satisfaction.

It had been five years.

Five years of swallowing my pride, of not being able to speak my truth.

Now, finally, I could say it. And this was only the beginning.