“I spent the entire night awake, Robert,” I said, opening a manila folder I’d set by the sink. I fanned out the documents — the deed, the mortgage agreement, and the ironclad prenup Robert himself had insisted on when we married.

“You have until noon,” I told Madison and Evan. “Sign the roommate agreement, pay the first month, and follow the rules. Or take your designer luggage somewhere else.”

Evan scoffed, pouring his own oat milk. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t throw family out.”

Before I could answer, a sharp, authoritative knock sounded from the front door, followed by the doorbell.

Madison smirked, her confidence returning. “Good. Maybe someone reasonable is finally here. Did you order breakfast, Dad?”

I walked past them, my posture rigid. “No,” I said over my shoulder. “I ordered a witness.”