And I was ready.

Because the difference between Friday being his victory and Friday being mine wasn’t confrontation. It wasn’t argument. It was preparation, observation, and control.

Everything he thought he had hidden was now cataloged. Every timing, every email, every phone call, every document.

I would move first.

And when Friday came, the illusion of control he had built so carefully would collapse silently, precisely, and irrevocably.

Because this wasn’t just about property anymore. It was about trust. About respect. About finally refusing to be displaced from the life I had built.