My father had left me an inheritance when he passed away—something I quietly used as a down payment years ago. Ethan had always behaved as if the house simply existed because he lived in it. As long as the lights stayed on, he never asked questions.
“The house is mine,” I said. “Not ours. Mine.”
Patricia blinked rapidly. “That can’t be right.”
“It is,” I replied. “And here’s the other part: your ‘you’ll have to pay’ Hawaii trip? That’s extortion when you pair it with the threats you two put in writing.”
Ethan looked like he might be sick. “Natalie, please—”
He reached for my wrist automatically, like he could physically pull me back into the role he preferred.
Deputy Ortega stepped between us immediately. “Do not touch her.”
Ethan froze. Patricia’s eyes darted around the room, calculating, realizing for the first time that her usual intimidation meant nothing against badges and paperwork.
Ms. Parker slid another document forward. “Ms. Brooks, if you’d like to proceed, we can also discuss a temporary protective order given the threats of eviction and the financial coercion documented.”
Ethan’s voice cracked. “A protective order? For what? I never hit her.”