In that exact moment, something inside me moved. It wasn’t the feeling of a heart breaking.
It was the feeling of sudden, sharp clarity.
They had worked under the assumption that I would simply keep paying for their lives. What they had failed to remember was one vital piece of information.
Every single asset was registered in my name.
The mansion. The vehicles. The investment portfolios. The corporate shares. Anthony didn’t actually own a single thing. He only had access to those luxuries because I had granted it to him.
I didn’t return to our home that night. Instead, I checked into a hotel overlooking the bay and placed a call to my lawyer.
“List the Silver Ridge property for sale immediately,” I commanded. “I want a closed deal within forty-eight hours.”
Following that, I reached out to my financial advisor.
“Lock every joint account,” I told him. “Deactivate all secondary credit cards and revoke his digital access to everything.”
Three days later, Anthony and Chloe touched down in Los Angeles, undoubtedly expecting to step right back into the cushioned life they thought was waiting for them.
Instead, they took a cab to the estate only to find a private security guard stationed at the entrance.
