"Enjoy your cell," she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing my ear. "And don’t worry—I sent a little welcome party to keep you company."
I only realized what she meant when it was too late.
That night, they came. Women with eyes like knives and fists like iron. Boots in my ribs. Knuckles against my face. A kick to my abdomen so brutal that I thought my stitches would tear open.
I refused to scream. Refused to cry. I wouldn't give Sally that victory.
By morning, I was barely conscious. Alive, but wrecked.
Battered, stitched, and bandaged, I drove to the hospital. On the way back, my phone lit up with flashing notifications. Photos. Sally laughing, drink in hand. Music, lights, a glittering party.
At my house.
The house my father had given me, perched on the sea.
In my rage, I turned the car and sped there.
Sally’s laughter carried through the open windows. When I stepped inside, her friends fell silent, staring at me like I was the evening’s entertainment.
"Well, look who’s here," Sally purred. "Careful, everyone. Hide your wallets. The criminal has arrived."
They laughed like it was the joke of the century.
"Who gave you the right to throw a party in my house?" I asked calmly.
She tilted her chin smugly. "This house is mine now. Darren gave it to me as a push gift."
My hands curled into fists. "Did you pay for it? Did you lift a finger for it? No. My father did. You have three minutes to get out before I call the police for breaking and entering."
Her friends howled with laughter. "Delusional much?"
So I dialed. Calm. Steady.
The officers came, but Darren arrived with them. Sally had called him too.
He smoothed it over, convincing them to leave. My proof of ownership didn’t matter. His word always outweighed mine.
When the house was quiet again, Darren rounded on me. "Why couldn’t you just let it go? It was one party. You made a scene for nothing."
I stared him down. "I want them out. All of them. If their things aren't gone, I'll press charges. Don't test me, Darren."
I left before he could reply, my hands shaking as I gripped the wheel.
When I returned home later, a package waited.
Divorce papers.
Moments later, Darren stormed in, Sally trailing behind him. She slipped toward the nursery, leaving us alone.
"Eliana," Darren said tightly, "why would you pull a stunt like this? Can't we talk like adults?"
I held his gaze and thrust a stack of papers into his hands. "Sign."