He set his glass down with a heavy thud and walked toward me slowly. “Madeline, this penthouse is mine too. You bought it while we were married. That makes it half mine. And if my brother’s family is living here, they’re living here. You need to understand how things work.”
There are moments when reality fractures—when words take a second too long to settle into truth. I waited for a smirk, a punchline, anything to make it survivable.
Nothing came.
“I paid for it,” I said quietly. “From my contract.”
He shrugged. “We’re married. I’m going to the office. When I come back with Dylan and the kids, I expect you to have the guest rooms ready.”
Then he walked out.
As the elevator doors slid shut behind him, I didn’t cry. I walked back to the kitchen, opened my laptop, and felt something colder than anger settle into my bones.
Ethan wasn’t reckless. If he spoke like that, it meant he believed he had already secured something irreversible.
The moment the elevator began descending, I logged into my bank account.