Chapter 1
My husband threw a glass at my face during dinner because I refused to hand his mother my bank card. When she laughed at me afterward, I picked up my bowl of soup and threw it straight into her face.
The glass missed my eye by less than an inch.
It shattered against the wall behind me.
Our ten-year-old daughter, Ava, screamed.
I sat frozen at the table, staring at my husband, Daniel.
“Give my mother the card,” he said again.
His voice was frighteningly calm.
Across from me, Linda wiped a drop of soup from her chin and slowly smiled.
“You see?” she said. “This is exactly why she doesn’t deserve control of the money.”
I almost laughed.
The money she was talking about was mine.
My paycheck.
My account.
My bank card.
Linda had moved into our house three months earlier after telling Daniel she was struggling financially.
Since then, she had started treating my wallet like her personal ATM.
“Your mother spent $2,800 on my card last month,” I said.
Daniel shrugged.
“She needed things.”
“She bought jewelry.”
Linda smirked.
“A woman my age shouldn’t have to ask permission to enjoy herself.”
I pushed my chair back.
“Then use your own money.”
Daniel slammed his fist on the table.
“You will not speak to my mother that way.”
Ava started crying quietly.
That was when Linda leaned toward me and whispered, “You should be grateful Daniel still lets you live here.”
I stared at her.
“Lets me?”
The house had been purchased with the inheritance my father left me.
Daniel’s name wasn’t even on the original deed.
I reached for my phone.
Daniel grabbed it first.
“You’re not calling anyone.”
“Give it back.”
Linda laughed again.
“Look at her acting tough now.”
I picked up the soup without thinking and threw it.
Linda screamed as it splashed across her face and blouse.
Daniel jumped to his feet.
For one second, I thought he was going to hit me.
Then Ava suddenly shouted from the doorway.
“Mom! Grandma took your papers!”
Linda went completely still.
“What papers?” I asked.
Ava ran upstairs and returned holding a brown folder.
I recognized it immediately.
My father’s estate documents.
The folder I kept locked inside the desk in my home office.
I opened it.
Several pages were missing.
Daniel’s face turned pale.
I looked at Linda.
Then I noticed the photocopied signature page sticking out of her purse.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
“What did you do?”
Neither of them answered.
I pulled the page out.
May you like
It was a property transfer document.
And according to the date at the bottom, my house had supposedly been transferred to Linda two weeks earlier.
