Right on cue, the door opened.
Sabrina stepped outside, clearly irritated.
“Connor isn’t here,” she said coldly.
“That’s fine,” my father replied.
He walked straight toward the door.
“You can’t just walk in here,” Sabrina snapped.
My father calmly took a small envelope from his jacket.
Inside was a folded document.
He held it up.
“This property,” he said quietly, “is not Connor’s to give away.”
Sabrina blinked.
“What?”
My mother gently squeezed my shoulder.
“Before your wedding,” she said softly, “your father and I bought this house for you.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
My father nodded.
“It’s registered in a family trust,” he explained. “You’re the sole beneficiary.”
Sabrina’s confident expression faltered.
“But Connor said—”
“Connor assumed,” my father said.
He handed her the document.
“Legally, he has no authority to transfer ownership.”
Her smile disappeared.
At that moment, another car pulled into the driveway.
Connor stepped out.
His confident stride slowed when he saw my parents.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
My father turned toward him.
“You tried to remove my daughter from her own home,” he said evenly.
Connor frowned.
“It’s my house.”
“No,” my father said calmly.
“It never was.”
He handed Connor the same document.
Connor scanned it quickly.
His face slowly drained of color.
“You’re lying.”
“I rarely do,” my father replied.
Connor looked between all of us, suddenly uncertain.
“And the divorce papers?” my mother added quietly.
“Our lawyer will respond.”
Connor opened his mouth, but no words came out.
My father stepped aside and opened the door.
“Bianca,” he said gently.
“Go home.”
I picked up the first car seat.
Then the second.
Then the third.
I walked past Connor and Sabrina without looking at them.
My parents followed me inside.
For the first time since giving birth, something shifted inside my chest.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Relief.
Connor had tried to take everything from me.
But instead…
He had just made a very expensive mistake.
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