Patricia stared at me, waiting for me to admit I was bluffing. Ethan rushed to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the property folder with a confident smile. That smile disappeared the moment he opened it.
The deed listed only one owner. My name. I had purchased the house years before our wedding with money inherited from my father, and the property had always remained legally separate. Ethan had even signed a prenuptial agreement acknowledging that fact.
Before either of them could argue, the doorbell rang. My attorney stepped inside with a process server carrying two sealed envelopes. I had called her earlier that afternoon, long before Ethan threw the divorce papers across the counter.
She calmly handed them formal eviction notices. Patricia’s hands began trembling as she read the first page. For the first time that evening, neither of them had a single insult left to say-
