Chapter 1 - THE OFFER
“Something legal.”
The words stayed with me all the way to Paige’s house.
By the time I pulled into her driveway, the rain had turned from a steady downpour into a cold mist.
Paige was already waiting beneath the porch light.
The second she saw my car, she ran toward me.
She didn’t ask about Garret.
She didn’t ask about the house.
She opened the back door and looked at Maya.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Her voice broke.
Maya slept through everything.
Paige carefully lifted the carrier while I climbed out.
The moment my feet touched the pavement, my knees nearly gave way.
Paige caught my arm.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are three days postpartum and just got locked out of your own house.”
“I said I’m fine.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
“Okay.”
It was Paige’s way of telling me she knew I was lying but wouldn’t force me to admit it yet.
Inside, she had already turned the guest room into a temporary nursery.
Fresh sheets.
A bassinet.
Diapers.
A bottle warmer.
Even a small night-light beside the bed.
I stared at it.
“When did you do this?”
“While I was waiting for you.”
“You had twenty minutes.”
“I panic efficiently.”
For the first time that night, I smiled.
Then my phone rang.
Natalie.
Paige saw the name.
“Is that your attorney?”
“She’s more than that.”
I answered.
Natalie didn’t waste time.
“The buyer increased his offer.”
“How much?”
She gave me the number.
I stopped breathing for a second.
Paige watched my face.
“What?”
I put Natalie on speaker.
“The offer is all cash,” Natalie continued.
“He wants a quick close, but there’s one condition.”
“What condition?”
“He wants possession immediately after closing.”
I looked toward the bassinet.
Maya stirred softly.
“How quickly?”
“If we move aggressively, ten business days.”
Paige stared at me.
“That fast?”
Natalie continued.
“Title is clean.”
“No mortgage.”
“No liens.”
“No co-owner.”
“No trust restrictions.”
“And I confirmed the prenup language.”
My pulse slowed.
That was what Garret had never understood.
Redwood Crest wasn’t marital property.
I had purchased the estate four years before we met.
The down payment came entirely from my own assets.
Every mortgage payment before our marriage came from my accounts.
When Garret and I married, my attorney insisted the property remain separate.
Garret had signed the prenup.
He complained about it for weeks.
Then he signed anyway.
At the time, he told me it didn’t matter.
“We’re going to be together forever,” he had said.
Funny how forever became inconvenient once paperwork mattered.
“Natalie.”
“Yes?”
“Send the offer.”
Paige’s head snapped toward me.
“Audrey.”
I looked at her.
She lowered her voice.
“Are you sure you want to decide this tonight?”
It was a fair question.
Three days postpartum.
Exhausted.
Humiliated.
Angry.
Exactly the kind of moment when people made permanent decisions for temporary reasons.
So I didn’t answer immediately.
I walked to the window.
Paige’s neighborhood was quiet.
Ordinary houses.
Ordinary driveways.
Warm kitchens.
Families who probably thought their problems were enormous because someone forgot to take out the trash.
I envied them.
Then my phone buzzed.
A photograph appeared.
Garret.
He had posted it publicly.
He stood beside a rooftop pool in Miami.
Sunglasses.
White linen shirt.
Drink in his hand.
His mother, Evelyn, sat behind him beneath a cabana.
His sister, Tessa, leaned against the railing.
The caption was six words.
FAMILY TIME.
FINALLY SOME PEACE.
Paige read it over my shoulder.
Her jaw tightened.
“He posted that tonight?”
I nodded.
Three days after his daughter came home from the hospital.
While his wife and newborn stood locked outside in the rain.
Finally some peace.
Something inside me became very still.
Not angry.
Not broken.
Still.
“Natalie?”
“I’m here.”
“Send the contract.”
“Audrey—”
“Send it.”
My phone chimed less than a minute later.
I opened the document.
Forty-seven pages.
I read every one.
Paige made tea.
Maya woke twice.
At 1:14 in the morning, I reached the signature page.
I stared at my name.
Audrey Bennett Whitmore.
Then I remembered Garret standing in Redwood Crest’s library six months earlier with a glass of bourbon in his hand.
“One day this place will belong to Maya anyway,” he had said.
I had smiled.
“Our daughter isn’t even born yet.”
“Still.”
Then he had looked around the room.
“My family finally has something permanent.”
My family.
Not ours.
His.
That should have told me everything.
I signed.
Natalie called immediately.
“I received it.”
“Good.”
“The buyer has until noon tomorrow to countersign.”
“He will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s wanted Redwood Crest for two years.”
Natalie went quiet.
Then she laughed softly.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything.”
I ended the call.
Paige stood in the doorway.
“So that’s it?”
“No.”
I placed my phone on the table.
“That was just the offer.”
“What comes next?”
I looked toward Maya.
“Now we find out why Garret thought he could lock me out of my own house.”
At 8:03 the next morning, Natalie called.
The buyer had signed.
May you like
Redwood Crest was officially under contract.
And Garret still had no idea.
