My name is Natalie, and the day Eric underestimated me was the day he destroyed himself.

Two days later, I was formally discharged from St. Jude’s Hospital.

My mother drove me and Sophie back to my family home in Pasadena—a spacious, four-bedroom Spanish colonial house that my father had left me in his will. It was the home where I had grown up, and the home where I had foolishly allowed Eric to live rent-free for six years.

When we pulled up to the driveway, I noticed something wrong immediately.

The front door was slightly ajar.

“Mom, stay in the car with Sophie,” I said, my pulse spiking.

“Natalie, don't go in there!” my mother warned, reaching for her phone to dial 911.

I didn't wait. I got out of the passenger seat, taking slow, careful steps up the brick walkway. The heavy iron lock on the front door had been drilled out.

I pushed the door open.

The house was completely gutted.

The living room furniture was gone. The paintings my father had collected were stripped from the walls. The oak cabinets in the dining room were open and empty. Eric hadn't just moved his personal clothes; he had brought a commercial moving crew to strip the entire house down to the floorboards.

I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. My jewelry box was flipped upside down on the mattress. My closet had been raided—every designer bag, shoe, and coat was gone.

Standing in the center of the empty room was Lauren Hayes, wearing heavy work gloves, holding a small metal safe that had been hidden in the back of my closet.

She froze when she saw me standing in the doorway.

“You’re trespassing, Lauren,” I said, my voice dangerously soft.

Lauren didn't look afraid this time. She set the small safe down on the hardwood floor with a heavy metallic clatter.

“This house belongs to Eric’s marital estate,” Lauren said coldly, pulling off her work gloves. “Half of everything in here is his legally.”

“This house was inherited by me before I met him,” I replied, stepping into the room. “It was explicitly excluded from our prenuptial agreement. And so was the property inside it.”

Lauren chuckled—a dry, bitter sound. “You really think you’ve won because of a temporary custody order, Natalie? Eric has already liquidated the offshore accounts. The money from your father’s trust is being redirected through a series of legal appeals. You’re going to spend the next five years broke, fighting us in court while your daughter grows up without a dime.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, holding it up so she could see the screen.

“I’m not fighting you in divorce court, Lauren,” I said.

A loud siren blared outside the house. Red and blue police lights reflected off the empty bedroom walls.

Two uniformed officers rushed into the house, their guns drawn. “LAPD! Freeze! Hands where we can see them!”

Lauren’s eyes dilated with instant panic. “Wait! I have permission from the homeowner!”

“I am the sole legal owner of this property,” I told the officers, handing them a copy of my property deed and the restraining order Judge Albright had signed forty-eight hours ago. “This woman is currently breaking a judge’s protective order and committing grand larceny.”

The officers didn't hesitate. They pulled Lauren’s arms behind her back, snapping heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.

“Eric!” Lauren screamed toward the hallway. “Eric! Help me!”

Footsteps hurried up the stairs. Eric ran into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw two officers forcing Lauren to her knees.

“What the hell is going on here?” Eric demanded.

The lead officer looked at Eric’s ID. “Are you Eric Brooks?”

“Yes! I’m her husband—”

“You’re named on this restraining order, sir,” the officer said, pulling out a second pair of handcuffs. “You’re both under arrest for violation of a domestic protective order and felony burglary.”

Eric looked at me, his eyes wild with desperation. “Natalie! Tell them it’s a mistake! We were just getting my things!”

I walked over to the small safe Lauren had tried to steal. I picked it up, cradling it in my arm. Inside that safe were my father’s original journals and the hard drive containing every piece of evidence of Eric’s corporate embezzlement over the past three years—evidence I had spent the last two days analyzing with Maya.