"Three days after my wedding, my mother-in-law walked into my apartment like she owned it, poured hot stew onto my legs, and my husband looked at me bleeding on the floor and said I owed her an apology."

CHAPTER 3

Linda stared at the agreement.

Jake’s mouth tightened.

“You said that was just routine paperwork.”

“No,” I said. “I said it was a separate property agreement. You said, and I quote, ‘Fine, whatever makes you feel better.’ Then you signed it in front of my attorney.”

Linda turned to Jake.

“You signed what?”

He glared at me.

“She made me.”

“I protected myself.”

The room went still again.

For the first time, Linda looked less arrogant and more alert.

I flipped to the second page.

“This apartment remains my separate property. All premarital savings remain mine. Any attempt to access, sell, refinance, transfer, or claim ownership without written consent is considered financial coercion.”

Jake’s face reddened.

“You think some paper scares me?”

“No,” I said. “But the security footage might.”

His eyes flicked toward the ceiling.

There it was.

The tiny camera above the kitchen entryway.

I had installed it after my father died because living alone in Seattle had taught me to be careful.

Jake had mocked it when he moved in.

Now he understood.

Linda’s voice sharpened.

“You recorded me?”

“You walked into my apartment without permission and spilled boiling stew on me.”