An old classmate had once mentioned wanting to buy my place. My fingers shook as I dialed her number.
"Do you still need a house?" The words tumbled out.
"Actually, yes."
Relief hit me like a wave. A shaky laugh escaped my throat. "Great."
But the moment I hung up and reached my front door, my feet stopped moving.
Strangers. Inside my living room. Inspecting my walls like they owned them.
"Who the hell are you?" I stepped inside. "Why are you breaking into my house?"
One of the men sneered. "Breaking in? Don't make me laugh. From this moment on, this house belongs to us."
"Excuse me?"
"Your wife sold it to us." He looked bored, like I was wasting his time. "Something about needing cash to save her lover's business. Transaction's done. Money's transferred. So get the hell out."
The words didn't compute. Not at first.
Then they did.
Shock curdled into something cold. Something hard.
I yanked out my phone and dialed Olivia. But the voice that answered wasn't hers.
"Looking for Olivia?" Spencer Delgado. Dripping with smug satisfaction.
"Put her on."
"She's still sleeping." A lazy drawl. "Last night was... exhausting. I didn't let her get much rest, if you know what I mean."
My grip tightened until my knuckles went bone-white. "Wake her up. Now. What right does she have to sell my house?"
"Oh, that? My idea." A chuckle. "You trashed my shop. Ruined my business. Consider this compensation."
"Compensation?"
"Olivia feels guilty. Thinks she owes me." His voice turned silky. "So, to make it up to me, she sold the house. Gave me the proceeds."
Red crept into the edges of my vision. "Make him return the money." My voice shook. "That house is my premarital property. She had no legal right to sell it. That's fraud."
"Yeah, yeah."
The line went dead.
Before I could redial, hands shoved me through my own front door. I hit the pavement hard.
I was about to storm off—find Olivia, find Spencer, drag the money out of them myself—when my phone rang.
The doctor.
His voice was grave. Mom had found out about me selling the house. She had refused the surgery.
"She gave up," he said softly. "She only wants to see you one last time. Hurry."
Terror, cold and sharp, pierced straight through my chest.
I dialed Olivia as I ran. Mom had loved her like a daughter. I hoped—God, I hoped—despite everything, Olivia would come to the hospital to say goodbye.
But before the call could connect, a notification appeared.