The line went dead quiet.
“That’s not funny,” he whispered.
“It’s not a joke.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“Because I wanted a husband,” I said evenly. “Not a man who felt entitled to my success.”
His voice cracked. “We can fix this. I was stressed. My mom—”
“No,” I cut in. “You meant every word.”
Naomi slid another document toward me—temporary exclusive occupancy.
“Please,” Trent whispered. “Just tell them to leave.”
I paused, then said the sentence he never expected.
“Pack a bag,” I told him. “You’re the one leaving.”
“I’m not leaving my house!”
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