I wanted to storm out and confront them, to demand answers. But my rationality won out over my impulses.
I gathered all our bank cards and calculated every piece of property and asset shared between me and Patrick. My goal was clear—I wanted him to walk away with nothing.
Before I could finish, I heard commotion outside. Patrick had returned, and he brought Ria and her son with him.
They were openly trying to take over my home.
I steadied myself, suppressing the surge of anger, and walked out of my room. My sudden appearance startled my in-laws.
"When did you get back?" my mother-in-law blurted out, clearly alarmed.
Ignoring her, I fixed my gaze on Ria.
Sensing the intensity of my stare, she hurriedly put on her innocent, helpless façade.
"I really have nowhere else to go. Andrea, if it bothers you, I’ll leave right now," she said timidly.
Ria’s act didn’t fool me. I saw her for what she truly was—a two-faced manipulator.
It struck me how her demeanor—delicate and pitiful—had always been the kind that men seemed to adore.
I didn’t explode in anger. Instead, I smiled.
"Oh, you had nowhere to go? Then you can stay. You can have my room—I’ll be out of town for a few days."