Three days later, I returned to the penthouse.

Not alone.

Evelyn was beside me.

Two police officers stood behind us.

Grant, Diane, Brooke, and Ryan were gathered in the living room.

Grant looked furious.

“You can’t just throw us out.”

I held up the deed.

“Yes, I can.”

“This is my son’s home.”

“No.”

I looked at Ryan.

“This was my home before I met your son.”

Then I handed the police officer a folder.

“The eviction notice.”

Diane gasped.

“You’re doing this to your own family.”

I stared at her.

“You stopped being my family when you watched your son restrain me while his father burned me.”

She began crying.

Brooke looked down at her phone.

Grant stepped toward me.

“You’ll regret this.”

I didn’t move.

“No.”

I looked at him calmly.

“I regret the three years I spent believing you deserved my kindness.”

The officer opened the door.

“Everyone needs to leave.”

And just like that, the penthouse became quiet.

---

PART 8 — WHAT RYAN LOST

Ryan came to my lawyer’s office the following week.

He looked exhausted.

“Claire, please.”

I didn’t invite him to sit.

“You need to sign the separation agreement.”

“I don’t want a divorce.”

“I do.”

“You’re pregnant with our daughter.”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that mean something?”

“It means our daughter deserves better than what she witnessed.”

He looked at me.

“I can change.”

“Maybe.”

He swallowed.

“But you don’t get to practice changing on me.”

He started crying.

“I love you.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“I loved you too.”

That hurt him more than anger would have.

Then I signed the papers.

PART 9 — MY DAUGHTER

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