Chapter 3
"Jolie! What's that supposed to mean?" Caleb growled at me.
"Doesn't mean anything," I said, tucking my phone away and pulling open the car door. "If we're making rules, then we play by mine."
"You eat my food, sleep under my roof, and still think you can lay a hand on me? Caleb, time to snap out of it."
I slid into my Ashford & Sterling and fired up the engine.
Caleb was still trying to convince me with his pathetic pickup artist nonsense.
"We're married, Jolie. Why are you being so stingy? Your money is my money, isn't it?" he said.
I couldn't be bothered to argue anymore. I just pulled out my phone and blocked his number.
With a screech of tires, I floored it, ditching Caleb and his pathetic theories in the night outside the police station.
In the rearview mirror, he and his family got smaller and smaller, until they were nothing but a blurry dot.
I rolled down the window, letting the night breeze sweep away any lingering trace of them from the car.
I felt so good.
Late that night, I drove back to the marital home I'd poured my heart into decorating.
I unlocked the front door with my fingerprint, and as I pushed it open, my heart sank.
By the entryway, several pairs of muddy shoes that definitely weren't mine were tossed carelessly on the floor.
In the living room, the couch I'd kept spotless was now covered with snack wrappers and sunflower seed shells.
My favorite wool rug now had a dark stain on it.
"Whose is this huge thing? Looks like a damn boat!"
Yara was hollering from the master bedroom.
I frowned, headed over, and what I saw through the half-open door made my blood boil.
My walk-in closet was trashed. Yara was posing with one of my couture dresses, her face practically dripping with jealousy and greed.
And that little monster, Briar, was parked at my vanity.
He was clutching my brand-new limited-edition lipstick.
She was drawing messy stick figures on the walls, the mirror, and even my leather jewelry box.
Margaret was even more outrageous. She had my reading glasses perched on her nose.
She was busy trying to jimmy open the locked drawer of my jewelry cabinet, muttering nonstop.
"That damn girl, hiding all the good stuff like she's scared someone's gonna rob her!"
Talk about guarding against thieves—look who's talking.
They were the real thieves here.
[Warning: Host's emotional levels are off the charts. Risk of OOC behavior escalating.]
I took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to go in there and rip them to shreds.
Without a sound, I quietly backed out of the room.
Then I pulled out my phone and dialed the building security desk.
"Hello? Is this security? My address is 2801, Building A. My place's been broken into. Yeah, there are several intruders. Get someone up here, quick!"
After hanging up, I leaned against the cold wall, waiting.
Less than three minutes later, a few security guards came running up, panting and clutching their batons.
"Ms. Sterling, are you alright? Where are the intruders?" the security captain asked, looking anxious.
I pointed at the door that was barely open. "In there."
The guards quickly formed up, kicked the door open, and barked, "Freeze! Police—uh, security!"
The three inside looked like they'd seen a ghost, totally petrified by the sudden chaos.
The couture dress Yara was holding slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, while the screwdriver in Margaret's hand dropped with a loud clatter.
Briar, terrified, tossed the lipstick aside and let out a loud wail.
"What are you doing? Who are you?" Margaret was the first to recover, hands on her hips as she started making a scene.
The security captain looked at the group, clearly bewildered, then turned to me for answers.
I walked in calmly, took out my ID and a digital photo of my property deed from my bag.
"Officer, this is my house. The deed's got only my name on it. I have no idea who these people are. They've trespassed, and they're in the middle of stealing and wrecking my stuff," I said.
"Don't give me that crap!" Margaret shot up, her face twisted with rage.
"I'm her mother-in-law! This is my son's place! We can come and go whenever we damn well please!" she retorted.
"Mother-in-law?" I let out a cold laugh.
"Legally, there's no such thing as a mother-in-law having the right to waltz into her daughter-in-law's pre-marital property. And as for your son Caleb? He's not even a tenant here—at best, he's just a temporary lover squatting in my place," I shot back.
"You...you shameless woman! What nonsense are you spouting!" Yara's face went ghostly pale with rage.
I wasn't about to waste my breath arguing with them, so I just addressed the security captain directly.
"Do me a favor and show these 'guests' the door. If they give you any trouble, call the cops and charge them with breaking," I said.
With my order, the guards moved in, one on each side, grabbing Margaret and Yara by the arms and dragging them toward the door.
"Let go of me! You bunch of bullies! Do you have any idea who my son is?" Margaret kicked and flailed like crazy, legs flying everywhere.
Yara went full drama queen, dropping to the floor and wailing, "I'm not leaving! This is my brother's house! Why should I go? Go ahead, beat me to death if you've got the guts!"