It was everything I'd hoped for. The home where I thought we'd build a quiet, steady life together.
Brenda's voice cut through the fog. "Madeline? Madeline, are you okay? I'm sending you the filing records and the delivery confirmation right now. Don't panic. That apartment is your pre-marital property. He has no legal claim to it."
I hung up. The messages came through instantly.
Clear screenshots of the official filing. A delivery stamp in bold red ink. Even the property management's move-in registration records. And there, in the column marked Owner, a name I didn't recognize.
Abigail Pruitt.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Abigail Pruitt. Max's childhood sweetheart. The one he said had moved abroad three years ago.
She'd been living in my home this entire time.
An empty cab pulled up to the curb. I yanked the door open.
"Lakeview Manor. Now."
The home he'd told me was stalled in construction for three years.
He said it had never been livable.
We were in a long-distance relationship, and the distance was too far for me to visit. I'd never once gone to see it for myself.
But when I finally did, I found it fully renovated, beautifully furnished.