Chapter 3 - The Locks and the Lease
I stepped out of Zachary’s truck, walking up the stone pathway with a composure that surprised even myself. Zachary walked a few paces behind me, a silent, imposing guardian whose presence gave me an armor I hadn't possessed when I walked out of that wedding venue.
I pulled my house key from my purse, slid it into the deadbolt, and turned it.
The door swung open to the sound of laughter.
Andrew and Gemma were standing in the kitchen, uncorking a bottle of expensive champagne—wine I had bought for our reception toast. Brenda was sitting on the living room sofa, kicking off her designer heels as if she owned the place.
When they saw me walk in—followed by a tall, broad-shouldered stranger they didn't recognize—the laughter died instantly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Brenda shrieked, jumping off the couch. “How did you get in here? You abandoned your wedding! You forfeited your rights to this life!”
Andrew stepped forward, looking defensive and irritated. “Sam, what are you doing here? This is completely inappropriate. Can't you just accept that it’s over? You made your choice at the hospital.”
I didn't look at Andrew. I walked straight past him into the kitchen, picked up the champagne bottle Gemma was holding, and poured the contents down the kitchen sink.
Gemma gasped, stepping back. “Sam! Have you lost your mind?”
“No, Gemma,” I said, turning to face them with a cold, surgical smile. “I’ve actually never been more sane. And you’re standing in my kitchen, drinking my wine, in a house that you don't own.”
“Your kitchen?” Andrew scoffed, crossing his arms. “We’re married now, Sam. We are a family. This house is marital property—”
“Is it?” I interrupted, pulling a thick manila folder from my tote bag and tossing it onto the granite island. The files slid across the smooth stone, stopping right at Andrew’s chest. “Open it, Andrew.”
He hesitated, glaring at me, before opening the folder. His eyes scanned the document—the property deed registered exclusively under Samantha Miller, purchased five years before we met, with zero financial contribution from him.
“This... this doesn't mean anything,” Andrew stammered, his face turning pale. “We’ve lived here together! Common-law—community property—”
“Texas does not recognize common-law marriage unless specific criteria are met, none of which apply here,” I stated, my voice clinical and precise. “Furthermore, you have thirty days to remove your personal belongings. But since you’re already married and living your best life with my former best friend, I’m exercising my right as sole property owner to ask you to pack your bags and leave tonight.”
“You can’t do that!” Brenda screamed, marching into the kitchen and pointing a manicured finger in my face. “You cannot throw my son out on his wedding night! Where is he supposed to go? To a hotel? Have you no shame?”
“Oh, I have plenty of shame, Brenda,” I said, stepping closer to her until she was forced to lean back. “What I don't have is patience for parasites. You wanted a traditional wife for your son? Congratulations, Gemma is all yours. But you don't get to sleep in my bed while you celebrate stabbing me in the back.”
Zachary stepped further into the kitchen, his physical presence dominating the room. He didn't say a word, but his steady, unblinking stare made Andrew flinch.
“Who the hell are you?” Andrew demanded, looking at Zachary with a mixture of fear and bruised masculinity. “What business do you have in our house?”
“My name is Zachary Howard,” Zachary replied, his voice deep and level. “And I’m the father of the little girl Dr. Miller saved today while your wife—excuse me, your new wife—was helping you steal another woman’s life.”
Gemma turned white as a sheet, finally finding her voice. “Sam... please. Don't do this. We can talk about this like adults. We didn't mean to hurt you—”
“Save it, Gemma,” I cut her off, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You spent months planning this behind my back. You wore my wedding dress—no, wait, you had your dress ready to go, didn't you? You had it altered weeks ago, betting on the fact that I would be stuck at the hospital.”
May you like
Gemma’s guilty silence was all the confirmation I needed.
“You have until midnight to get your things out,” I said, turning my back on them. “If you aren't gone by midnight, I’m calling the police and having you both removed for trespassing. Zachary, let’s go out to the patio. The air in here smells like rot.”
