The smart lock still recognized my fingerprint—a small irony. The door beeped open. Shortly after, Liam arrived with his crew.
He stood in the entryway, looking at the warm, exquisite interior. Then he turned to me.
"Miss Sarah... are we really doing this?"
I walked into the living room. My gaze swept over the space I'd once poured my soul into.
The floor tiles I'd agonized over—the perfect shade to brighten the room. The custom wall paint. The light fixtures casting their soft, welcoming glow. Even the outlet placements I'd mapped for convenience.
This had been my harbor. My sanctuary.
Now it was just a monument to my own foolishness.
I turned back to Liam, eyes dry, voice ice.
"Tear it out. Everything I paid for. Leave nothing."
He nodded and signaled his men.
The work began instantly. Electric drills roared. Sledgehammers thudded. Crowbars screeched against tile.
Within minutes, the cozy atmosphere shattered. Dust rose in choking clouds. Debris piled on the floor.
The workers moved with brutal efficiency. They didn't see a home—they saw a job site.