Chapter 2

I took a deep breath and forced my brain into survival mode.

Reasoning with them was pointless.

You can never wake someone who is pretending to be asleep.

Without a word, I pulled out my phone. From the very day I decided to buy that townhouse, I had been careful.

Not because I was naturally paranoid, but because deep down, this family had never earned my complete trust.

I unlocked a hidden album.

Inside were all the receipts I had meticulously archived.

Bank transfer confirmations, clearly showing three hundred thousand dollars leaving my personal checking account.

The original remodeling contracts, stamped with my signature.

Every single digital receipt for appliances, floorings, and furniture.

I even had the saved chat logs from years ago, showing Brandon and Chloe explicitly discussing the nominee title arrangement.

I turned my screen brightness to maximum and shoved the phone right under their noses.

"Here is the bank transfer showing my down payment."

"Here is the contractor agreement."

"Here are the receipts for every piece of furniture inside that house."

"And look at this one, Chloe. Remember this? You texted me telling me how much you loved the wallpaper design I picked for your son’s nursery."

With every swipe of my finger, Chloe's face lost a shade of color.

Brandon reached out to grab my phone, but a single, lethal glare from me made him yank his hand back.

Richard and Eleanor buried their faces even lower, looking as though they wished the tile floor would swallow them whole.

The hallway fell dead silent.

The only sound left was the soft tap of my fingernail against the glass screen.

And the heavy, panicked breathing of the people who thought they could rob me blind.

On the drive back from the clinic, the tension inside the car was suffocating.

Not a single soul uttered a word.

Brandon's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel, veins bulging along his forearm.

Chloe sat in the back seat. In the rearview mirror, I could catch the venomous daggers she was shooting into the back of my head.

I knew this was just the calm before the storm.

An all-out war was about to break out.

Sure enough, the second the car parked in our building's garage, Chloe kicked her door open and stormed out.

She didn't head home. She followed us straight up to our apartment.

The moment the front door clicked shut, she slammed her designer bag onto the living room sofa, letting loose all the rage she had been bottling up.

"Serena! What the hell is your problem?!"

She pointed her finger right in my face, her voice piercing the room.

"Were you trying to humiliate our entire family at the clinic?!"

"Dragging up all that ancient history—what were you trying to prove? That you're so smart? That this family owes you everything?!"

I looked at her, completely unfazed, and didn't say a single word.

The best way to deal with a rabid dog is to ignore it.

The more you argue, the harder it tries to bite.

My cold silence only infuriated Chloe further.

"Let me tell you something, Serena! That property is registered under Dad's name, which means it legally belongs to him!"

"And whatever belongs to Dad is half mine!"

"My son is his direct grandson! Using his grandfather’s house to get into that school is completely within his rights!"

"Who the hell are you to tell us what to do? You're just an outsider!"

An outsider.

That single word hit like a jagged needle, piercing straight through the softest spot in my heart.

I had been married to Brandon for five years. I gave this family everything—spoiled his parents, supported his sister, treated everyone like my own blood.

And in the end, to the Vances, I was nothing more than an outsider.

Brandon finally snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"Enough, Chloe! Shut up!"

"Brandon! Are you actually taking her side?!"

Chloe looked at him in total shock.

"Did you forget who emptied their own savings account to help cover your down payment back then?!"

"It was me! Not Serena!"

"Now that she has a little money, you forget where you came from?!"