“Does she know you’ve spoken to an attorney?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Over the next several days, Claire helped me formally document my ownership position and notify the appropriate parties that no sale, gift, transfer, or refinancing involving my interest was authorized without my verified consent.

It wasn’t dramatic.

There was no courtroom.

Just paperwork.

Signatures.

Identification.

A notary stamp.

I put the originals in Claire’s office.

Then I went home.

Ryan acted completely normal.

That was probably the strangest part.

He ordered Thai food on Thursday.

Asked whether we needed detergent Friday.

On Sunday, Teresa came over with Felicia.

Felicia walked into the second bedroom again.

This time she tapped the wall.

“Mark thinks we should take this out.”

I looked at her hand.

“Don’t.”

She laughed.

“I’m talking about later.”

“I’m not.”

Teresa glanced at me.

For half a second, nobody spoke.

Then she smiled.

“Everyone is stressed.”

That was Teresa’s favorite way to end a conversation.

Not apologize.

Not explain.

Just declare everyone stressed.

I left Monday morning for a two-day preservation assessment in Baltimore.

When I returned Wednesday afternoon, my belongings were on the sidewalk.

I Went Back Upstairs

Jenna wanted me to stay with her.

Instead, I asked her to help me load what we could save into her SUV.

Then I changed clothes in the restroom of a coffee shop.

At 6:10 p.m., I returned to the building.

My key didn’t work.

I expected that.

I called Claire.

She arrived twenty-five minutes later carrying a leather folder.

We went upstairs.

I knocked.

Teresa opened the door.

She stared at Claire, then at me.

“I told you not to come back.”

“You don’t get to tell me that.”

She tried to close the door.

Claire put one hand against it.

“Mrs. Walker, my client is an owner of this property.”

Teresa’s expression changed.

Only slightly.

“This is a family matter.”

“Ownership isn’t.”

Ryan appeared behind her.

He looked terrible.

“Megan.”

I stepped inside.

Felicia was sitting at my dining table with paint samples spread in front of her.

My dining table.

There were three glasses of wine beside them.

I set Claire’s folder on the table.

Felicia moved the samples.

“What is this?”

I opened the folder.

“Confirmation that nobody can transfer my ownership interest without my verified signature.”

Ryan stared at the documents.

Teresa didn’t.

She stared at me.

“You went to a lawyer behind your husband’s back?”

I looked around the room.

One of my framed photographs was already gone from the wall.

“You put my underwear on the sidewalk.”

Nobody answered.

Ryan rubbed his forehead.

“Can everybody calm down?”

Claire looked at him.

“Did you authorize your wife’s property to be removed?”

Ryan hesitated.

That hesitation answered me.

Then someone spoke from the hallway.

“Mom already has another lawyer.”

It was Ryan’s younger sister, Lucy.

Teresa turned.

“Lucy.”

Lucy stayed near the door.

“Bernard Cole.”

Ryan went still.

I looked at her.

“Who is Bernard Cole?”

Lucy swallowed.

“The attorney Mom talked to about making it look like Ryan transferred the condo earlier.”

Teresa moved toward her.

“Enough.”

Lucy stepped backward.

“You told him the paperwork needed an earlier date.”

Felicia stood up.

“Lucy, shut up.”

Claire closed the folder.

The entire room became quiet.

She looked at Teresa.

“Do you currently possess any document claiming Mrs. Walker transferred her interest in this property?”

Teresa crossed her arms.

“I don’t have to discuss private legal matters with you.”

Claire nodded.

“That’s fine.”

Then she looked at me.

“Megan, we’re leaving.”

Teresa laughed once.

“Good.”