“The party is cancelled. The lawyer is coming,” my father said on my birthday. It was all because I refused to let my sister live in my $1.5 million vacation home. I just nodded, holding back my laughter. Behind the lawyer came the police I had called.

I almost laughed at how familiar it sounded. I glanced around at the people I had invited, people who had come to celebrate with me, not to witness this kind of confrontation.

“Every payment on this house came from me,” I said, meeting their eyes directly. “I’m not giving it up to anyone.”

My father’s expression hardened. “Fine,” he snapped, pulling out his phone with theatrical precision. “Then everyone here should leave, because this party is over.”

Guests began setting down their plates, unsure whether to stay or go, while he turned back to me with a cold look.

“My lawyer will be here soon,” he added. “We’ll settle the legal rights to this house properly.”

I had to resist the urge to smile.

I had negotiated contracts worth millions and built my company from nothing, yet he still thought this would intimidate me.

“Go ahead,” I said calmly. “Call your lawyer.”

That only seemed to irritate him more. I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of sparkling water, and took a slow sip as Kristin drifted closer again, completely unfazed.

“There are three guest rooms here,” she said, glancing around as if mentally redecorating. “The master closet would be perfect for my clothes.”

She smiled, almost kindly. “You work all the time anyway, so you wouldn’t need much space.”

I turned to face her fully. “I’m not giving you anything,” I said quietly.

My mother stepped closer, reaching for my arm, but I moved away before she could touch me.

“Don’t be difficult,” she said softly. “Having Kristin here would make this house feel like a home.”

I let out a short breath. “Using someone else’s work to make your life easier isn’t love,” I replied. “It’s exploitation.”

That finally silenced the room. My mother lowered her voice. “Everyone is watching. Let’s talk somewhere private.”

I nodded once and followed her into the hallway, but something felt off the moment we stepped away from the crowd. The scent of Kristin’s perfume was stronger upstairs, not faint and passing, but settled, as if it had been there for a while.

A cold realization hit me. I turned immediately and walked upstairs, ignoring my father calling after me.

I opened the guest room door. Suitcases were spread across the floor. Clothes hung from the wardrobe. Makeup covered the dresser. The room I had kept perfectly maintained now looked like it had already been claimed.