Chapter 2: What I Put on the Table
My husband spun around and looked at me.
"What did you do?"
I kept my voice calm.
"I called a lawyer.
I had my name added to the deed — as the sole owner."
The room went completely still.
Camila's face turned red.
"You can't do that.
This is a family home.
My son built this with his own hands."
"Your son," I said quietly, "didn't make a single mortgage payment for the last two years.
I did.
Every single one."
She turned to my husband.
"Tell her to reverse it.
Tell her right now."
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
That silence told me everything I needed to know.
I set a folder on the kitchen table.
Inside were two years of bank statements — every payment, every transfer, all in my name.
"I'm not taking anything back," I said.
"I'm protecting what I built."
Camila grabbed my husband's arm.
"She's trying to push me out.
She's trying to take you away from your own mother."
He looked at the folder.
Then at his mother.
Then at me.
And I saw something shift in his face — something I hadn't seen in a long time.
But before he could speak, Camila pulled out her phone and said, "Then I'll call your father.
He'll know exactly what to do about this."
His father had been out of the picture for over a decade.
So why did my husband go pale the moment she said it?
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What Camila said next — and what my husband had been hiding — changes everything.
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