For Nine Years He Mistook My Silence for Surrender; What He Never Understood Was That Every Dinner I Didn’t Fight About Was a Day I Stayed Close Enough to Gather What I Needed to End Him
The townhouse was my separate inheritance, from my grandmother, held apart from the marriage — never his, whatever he had let himself believe.
A temporary court order granted me exclusive use of it, effective immediately.
He had seventy-two hours to collect his belongings, under supervision, and go.
“I renovated this place,” he snapped, as if that were a deed.
“With Simone’s money,” Lorna said.
“The invoices are attached, as an exhibit.
You’ll find them thorough.” Roman turned to me then, and his voice dropped into something uglier.
“You planned this.
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