I looked at him, and a genuine smile touched my lips for the first time in days. He’d just handed me the match to burn down his final sanctuary.

“Sell the house?” I asked, tilting my head. “Damon, did you really promise her a future financed by a property you don’t own?”

His jaw clenched. “We’re married. I’ve lived here four years. I’ve paid for the landscaping. It’s a marital asset.”

“You should really read the prenuptial agreement resting under your forged lease,” I said, gesturing to the box. “I bought this property three years before I met you.

The deed is entirely in my name. The prenup dictates that any appreciation in value remains my sole property. You are entitled to exactly nothing.”

Damon scoffed, waving a hand. “Keep the damn house. Like I said, my company is booming. I don’t need your real estate.”