“So you let her insult my career and call me a guest in my own home just to protect your ego?” Serena asked. Wesley didn’t look up, which was the only answer she needed to know that their marriage had been a performance he was tired of playing.
Monica pulled a second set of papers from her bag and handed them to Wesley with a look of profound professional distaste. “These are temporary occupancy restrictions, and you have exactly one hour to pack a suitcase of essentials before you are required to vacate.”
Wesley’s head snapped up in shock, his eyes wide as he realized Serena wasn’t just removing his mother. “You’re kicking me out too? Serena, I’m your husband, and we can move past one bad afternoon if we just try.”
“It wasn’t one bad afternoon,” Serena replied as she watched the locksmith hand her a new set of silver keys. “It was eight months of watching you choose her cruelty over my safety, and I am finally done being your collateral damage.”
The locksmith finished the first door, and the sound of the new bolt sliding home felt like the first breath of fresh air Serena had taken in a year. She stepped inside her home, followed by Monica and the officers, leaving Wesley and Beverly standing on the porch like ghosts.
The interior of the house smelled of Beverly’s expensive lilies and the underlying scent of the lavender cleaning spray she insisted the maid use. Serena walked into the kitchen and saw the kettle sitting on the stove, looking cold and harmless despite the damage it had caused.
“Are you doing okay?” Monica asked softly as she stood by the marble island. Serena looked at her reflection in the polished surface and realized the woman staring back looked tired but entirely focused.
“I’m not okay yet,” Serena answered as she watched the officers escort Beverly up the stairs to gather her things. “But for the first time in a long time, I am exactly where I am supposed to be without feeling like I have to hide.”
Monica’s expression shifted as she pulled a final document from her folder, one that hadn’t been shown to the police or the Thorne family yet. “We found some discrepancies in the joint savings account and the paperwork Wesley submitted for a private loan last month.”
Serena felt a new kind of chill settle over her as she scanned the pages. Wesley had used her income statements and the house’s equity to co-sign a loan for a luxury condo that Beverly had been scouting.
“He was trying to buy her a place using my credit and my house as collateral?” Serena asked. Monica nodded, confirming that the betrayal went far deeper than just a few white lies about who paid the mortgage.
Wesley entered the kitchen a few minutes later, clutching a small duffel bag as if it were a shield. He saw the papers on the counter and stopped in his tracks, the blood draining from his face until he looked nearly grey.
“I was going to pay it back before the first installment was even due,” Wesley stammered. Serena didn’t even raise her voice as she looked at him, feeling a strange sense of pity for a man who thought he could outrun his own shadow.
“You stole from me to buy a house for a woman who physically attacked me,” Serena said. Wesley opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat when he saw the officers waiting by the door to escort him out.
Beverly came down the stairs with two massive suitcases, her chin held high as if she were departing on a grand vacation rather than being evicted. She stopped in the foyer and looked at Serena with a sneer that didn’t quite hide the fear in her eyes.
“You’ll regret this when you’re sitting in this big, empty house with no one to love you,” Beverly snapped. Serena simply smiled, a small and genuine expression that seemed to infuriate the older woman more than a scream would have.
“I’d rather be alone in a house I own than trapped in a home you’ve poisoned,” Serena replied. The officers guided Beverly out the door, and the sound of her heels faded down the driveway until the house was finally, blissfully quiet.