“He has no rights to my property,” I said. “And even if he did, he didn’t agree to this.”
Victoria’s nostrils flared. “You’re trying to turn him against me.”
“No,” I said. “You did that when you lied.”
For a second, the polished Charleston hostess slipped, and what showed underneath was something colder—anger sharpened by entitlement.
She stepped closer. “You think you’re so smart,” she hissed. “You think money makes you untouchable.”
I held her gaze. “I think the law makes me untouchable.”
Paige scoffed. “Wow. Power trip.”
I looked at Paige then, really looked. She was twenty-nine now, old enough to know better, young enough to still enjoy cruelty when it benefited her.
“Paige,” I said, “did your mom tell you this was your house now?”
Paige hesitated just a beat. “She said Dad wanted us together.”
“Did you hear him say that?” I asked.
Paige’s eyes darted toward the living room window, like she could see my father inside.
Victoria stepped in, voice cutting. “We’re not doing this on the porch. Let us in. We’ll discuss it like adults.”
I straightened. “Adults don’t show up with luggage to a house they don’t own.”