Chapter 2
The next morning, the heavy wooden door to my hospital room swung open.
Ahmed walked in, looking immaculate in his tailored charcoal suit. A momentary flicker of awkwardness crossed his eyes when he saw the thick plaster cast locking my left leg.
"I came to take you home," he said with casual authority, stepping toward the bed. "Stop this silent treatment, Charlie. Lily was confused why you weren't at the breakfast table."
He bent down to lift me, but as his jacket brushed my face, a heavy, cloying scent hit my nose -- dark amber mixed with sweet tuberose.
Maria's signature perfume. It was smeared all over his collar.
I placed my palm against his chest, pushing him back with quiet, unyielding firmness. "Don't touch me."
Ahmed stumbled back, his jaw tightening in instant irritation. "Fine. Use your crutches. But when we get home, don't make a scene in front of Maria. She's been crying all morning because she feels like an intruder."
"An intruder?" I looked down at my cast, a cold, empty smile touching my lips. "How thoughtful of her."
As we drove back to the estate in suffocating silence, I stared out the window at the passing rain.
In Ahmed's mind, this estate was our joint matrimonial home -- a place where he paid the monthly utility bills and property management fees, convincing himself he was the provider. He had no idea someone had forged his digital signature to probe into the deed records while I lay in the ER.
I pulled out my phone and accessed my private security log.
The system alert flashed across my screen:
Notice: Property Deed Title Inquiry Flagged. Digital Signature Authorized under ID: A-Sims-8821.
I looked sideways at Ahmed's hands gripping the steering wheel.
This land was never joint property. It was registered under my maiden name years before I met him.
He thought he was being clever, using a forged authorization to check how much leverage he had over my home. But he had completely forgotten the strict terms embedded in the founding agreements from five years ago.
Ahmed never read what he signed.
"What are you looking at on your phone?" Ahmed asked, glancing at me with a frown. "If you're calling your friends to complain, don't bother. Nobody wants to hear your jealousy."
"I'm not calling my friends, Ahmed," I replied smoothly, locking my screen. "I'm just reviewing the house rules."
The black town car pulled up to the foot of my estate's driveway in the freezing drizzle.
Ahmed stepped out first, unbothered that my ankle was broken, leaving me to maneuver my crutches on the slick pavement. "Hurry up, Charlie. Maria cooked lunch."
I pushed open the double mahogany doors, the rubber grips of my crutches digging into my underarms with every slow, agony-laced step.
The serene, minimalist foyer I had spent five years curating was unrecognizable.
Loud pop music echoed off the vaulted ceilings. Cardboard moving boxes cluttered the marble floor. My mother's hand-painted porcelain vases were shoved into a corner like trash.
Maria stepped out from the kitchen, wrapped in my favorite cream silk robe, holding a silver tray of warm pastries.
"Charlie! You're back," Maria purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "I felt so guilty taking up space, but Ahmed insisted I move into the main house."
Before I could answer, seven-year-old Lily came bounding down the curved marble staircase, holding a cardboard box filled with my private sketchbooks and my mother's vintage teacups.
"Good girl, Lily," Maria cooed smoothly, handing her a frosted cookie. "Put those old boxes in hallway storage. We need to clear out the master closet for my new dresses."
Lily took a big bite of the cookie and looked at my plaster cast. "Aunt Maria lets me eat cookies before dinner! She's way more fun than you, Aunt Charlie."
Without a second thought, Lily dumped my late mother's hand-painted teacups into the trash bin by the stairs, completely unbothered.
Four years of selfless care, traded for a piece of sugar.
Ahmed stepped out from the dining room, looking at me with stern expectation. "Maria is moving into the master suite so I can keep an eye on her health. You can take the guest room over the garage."