Georgette's POV

“Georgette, you’re there all by yourself. I don’t want you getting taken advantage of,” my dad said urgently over the phone. “Don’t worry, I’m sending someone over right away.”

A few years ago, Dad’s company was doing exceptionally well, with a bright future ahead. So, he decided to relocate the business overseas. At the time, Jerry and I were already engaged.

Since I had a lot on my plate with the company abroad, Jerry and I agreed we’d get married once I wrapped up everything overseas and returned home.

I still remember the day I left. Jerry held my hand so tightly, clearly reluctant to let me go. He promised he’d wait for me and give me a perfect wedding when I came back.

But it had only been a year, and the man I returned to barely felt like the same person.

Now he treated me like I was just throwing a spoiled tantrum.

At this point, I wasn’t even angry anymore. I was simply disappointed.

Dad said he’d get our lawyer involved to handle the matter. After all, that house was a wedding gift from him to me, and the purchase record was still in his name.

As for the property title, it was with my team overseas, but my assistant had already sent me clear photos of it. That house was definitely under my name.

So, as for Beatrice showing up at the property management with her own title, claiming it was hers, I already had my suspicions.

About six months ago, Jerry told me he wanted to help manage the house while I was away. I didn’t think much of it. I assumed he just wanted to prepare our future home.

As such, I handed him the keys without hesitation. Later, he even asked me for a copy of the property title. Again, I didn’t think twice. I snapped a photo and sent it to him.

Now it was obvious. That photo had been used to create a fake deed. Beatrice must’ve used it to register the house as hers.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

While I was still waiting, fuming, Jerry finally showed up with Beatrice beside him.

He stormed over the moment he got out of the car and started yelling at me.

“Georgette, how long are you going to keep this up? So what if I let them stay in your house for a bit? Do you have to be so petty about it?”

He looked me in the eye, clearly furious. “Besides, that’s our marital house. I have just as much say in what happens to it. I let Beatrice’s mom stay there. What’s wrong with that? Would you really let an old woman sleep on the street?”

I stared at him, my expression turning cold with disbelief. Then I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Jerry, if you want to play the good guy, use your own house. Why are you lending out mine? Do you even know what she’s doing in there?” I snapped.

He froze for a second, then said coldly, “She’s an old lady. What could she possibly do in it? Even if she broke a few things, I’ll just pay to have them fixed. What’s the big deal? And you dragged me out of work over this?”

Then he narrowed his eyes at me and said in an icy tone, “Georgette, you’re acting like a spoiled brat. I think... I need to reconsider our engagement.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

His father pleaded with mine to arrange this engagement since their business only stayed afloat because of our family. Without our support, their family would've crumbled years ago.

Back then, I actually thought Jerry was a good match, so I agreed to the engagement willingly.

But clearly, he believed I couldn’t live without him.

Georgette's POV

I let out a cold laugh. “Jerry, since you’re having second thoughts about our engagement... then let me make it easy for you. It’s over. We’re done. That house was gifted to me by Dad, not to you, so you have no right to let someone else live there. And do you even know what they’ve been doing in it?”

I stared him down, my voice icy.

His expression darkened, and he opened his mouth to speak. But before he could say a word, Beatrice suddenly started crying beside him.

“I’m so sorry, Jerry…” she sobbed. “If it wasn’t for my mom, you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I’ll ask my mom to move out. I know Miss Payne looks down on us… I’m sorry. We’ll clean up everything before we go. Worst case, we’ll just rent some tiny place on our own.”

She cried like a tragic heroine, tears falling like she was in a drama.

And of course, Jerry’s face changed the moment he saw her like that.

“No way!” he snapped.

His expression turned colder as he glared at me.

“Georgette, look at what you’ve done!” he shouted. “Beatrice and her mother are already struggling, and now you’re making their situation even worse?”

Then, without warning, he marched up to me and barked, “Get out! I’m letting Beatrice’s mom stay in this house. That’s final! And you, what’s your problem? I already gave you a motel to stay in, and you’re still being picky. Someone like you will never survive in a marriage. How can you be a wife and mother in my family if you act like this? And today, I’m going to do what your father clearly failed to do—discipline you properly!”

Saying that, he raised his hand to hit me.

My face darkened, and I snapped, “Jerry, who the hell do you think you are? Even my father has never laid a hand on me, and you dare try? This is my house. What gives you the right to let them stay here? And do you even know what they did? They turned my home into a damn columbarium!”

He looked stunned for a moment, but before he could say anything, Beatrice screamed out between sobs.

“Georgette, how can you say that?! My mom’s work involves that kind of thing. Are you seriously judging our whole family because of it?!”

I scoffed. “I’m not judging your work. But that house is mine. Who gave you permission to fill it with urns and turn it into a smoke-filled mess?”

“Georgette, that’s enough!” Jerry snapped, staring at Beatrice as if she was the most pitiful person in the world. “Do you have no heart at all? So what if there are urns in your house? You're making such a big deal over nothing! I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to teach you a lesson!”

Before I could react, he slapped me hard across the face.

I turned back to glare at him, my face stinging, my eyes ice cold.

Just then, I saw my father’s secretary rushing over, flanked by a lawyer.

“Mr. Hansen,” I said clearly and loudly, “inform the Rodgers that the Paynes are cutting all business ties with them effective immediately. Also, call the police. I want to report them for illegal occupation of private property and document forgery.”