Chapter 3: The Gaslighting Phase
Three days passed. Ryan tried to return home, but the digital lock codes had been changed. He showed up on the porch, looking disheveled, playing the part of the distraught husband.
I opened the door, but kept the chain locked.
"Elena, stop this," he pleaded, his voice a practiced tone of exhaustion. "You’re hurting the children. Mia keeps asking where I am. Do you want to be the reason your kids grow up in a broken home?"
"You destroyed the home, Ryan," I said, my voice ice. "You walked into our bedroom with a stranger and invited her into my life. Don't blame me for the rubble."
"It was a mistake! A one-time thing!"
"I don't care," I said. "I’m not a woman you can bargain with anymore. We are done."
He scoffed, his temper beginning to flare. "You think you can just kick me out? This is my house, too. I pay the mortgage!"
"Actually," I handed him a single sheet of paper through the gap in the door. "You don't. You haven't paid a mortgage in five years. You were paying me rent, which I then funneled into the maintenance of the properties. Look at the deed, Ryan. Your name isn't on it."
He read the paper. His eyes widened. The panic returned, more visceral than before. "What is this? What have you been doing?"
"I’ve been waiting," I said. "Waiting to see if you were worth the life we built. You proved you weren't."
He turned to the driveway where his luxury car was parked—a car, I noted, that was financed through a credit line he had no idea I controlled.
May you like
"I’ll take everything," he spat. "I’ll fight for custody, I’ll fight for the house, I’ll fight until you have nothing."
"Go ahead," I said, closing the door. "I have something you’ll never have: the truth."
