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."

My words left them all dumbfounded. They looked at me as if I were a ghost.

Patrick, who seemed braced for a fight, was equally taken aback by my calm reaction.

Their disbelief didn’t bother me. In fact, I welcomed it. The happiness they felt now would only make their eventual downfall that much sweeter.

I left the house without another word, their confused stares burning into my back.

In truth, I wasn’t going out of town. I just didn’t want to stay under the same roof as them. Sitting in my car, I started looking for buyers for the house.

Selling the house wasn’t going to be easy. For Patrick’s family, this house was their anchor in San Fransisco—a symbol of stability. Even though my parents had bought it, the painful memories I had here outweighed any attachment I felt. Selling it would be a way to cut ties and give them a lesson they’d never forget.

The location was prime, so I hoped to find a buyer quickly. But after three days, there wasn’t a single response to my listing.

Desperate, I decided to step up my efforts. I stationed myself outside a real estate agency, keeping an eye out for someone wealthy but pliable—a buyer who would make the process easy.

Luck was on my side. A man pulled up in a modest car, exuding an air of urgency. Modesty in a vehicle often signals someone cautious with their money—someone who might also be easier to negotiate with.

After preparing my pitch, I approached him. "Excuse me, sir, could I have a word with you?"

When he looked up, I realized I recognized him—it was Karter Miles, a lawyer I’d met at the courthouse.

"Mr. Miles, what a coincidence..." I said awkwardly, memories of our first encounter flashing back. That day, I had been at my lowest, clutching my stomach in pain, waiting fruitlessly for Patrick.

"Indeed, quite the coincidence. What brings you here?" he asked, his tone was neutral but curious.

Not wanting to divulge too much, I brushed it off with a vague excuse. Karter didn’t seem convinced. After finishing his errand, he approached me again.

"I know a bit about your situation," he said. "If you trust me, I might be able to help."

His offer gave me pause. After some thought, I decided to confide in him, sharing my plan to sell the house.

To my surprise, Karter agreed to help.

We carefully mapped out the next steps, ensuring the process would be both swift and seamless. With the plan set, I returned home to inform Patrick.

Standing at my front door, I couldn’t shake the annoyance bubbling inside me. I dreaded the confrontation, but there was no escaping it—I had to face them.

I knocked, and Patrick opened the door, his face lighting up with smug disbelief.

"See? I told you. What’s the point of all that fuss when you always come crawling back in the end?" His tone dripped with contempt and disdain.

Ignoring his words, I stepped inside, immediately noting that Ria and her son weren’t around.

"Ria said it’s inconvenient for her to stay here and didn’t want to upset you. So, I rented her an apartment. Satisfied now?" he said, his voice brimming with admiration for Ria, as if she were some saint.

I gave a nonchalant reply, "As long as you’re happy."

My calmness took him by surprise, but I wasn’t done.

"I’ve been thinking about selling this house," I said, glancing around. "Maybe we can get a bigger place in the southern suburbs. You’ve been eyeing that area for a while, haven’t you? It’s closer to your office."

He looked at me, stunned. The idea of moving had been his suggestion a while back, but I had refused then. Now, I was using it to bait him.

Recovering from his surprise, he scrutinized me carefully, his gaze searching for hidden motives.

"Are you serious? Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked skeptically.

I turned away, walking to the balcony, my eyes landing on the spot where Amy used to play. My chest tightened, and my nails dug into my arm as I steadied myself. Finally, I said, "This house is filled with Amy’s memories. I don’t want to live here anymore."

It was a reason even Patrick couldn’t question. After a pause, he followed me and said cautiously, "Let me think about it first."

I knew what that meant. His “thinking” involved consulting his mother or Ria—or likely both. Either way, their decisions no longer mattered to me.

Behind the scenes, I had already enlisted Karter’s help to stage this perfectly. We set up everything in the southern suburbs, knowing Patrick’s next move.

Sure enough, the following day, Karter texted me to say Patrick was at the Golden Neighborhood inspecting houses. His eagerness wasn’t surprising, but seeing him take the bait so quickly still left a bitter taste.

By the afternoon, Karter’s team had managed to stall him enough to seal the deal. Shortly after, Patrick called me.

"I’ve decided. Let’s sell the house."

Predictable. I arranged for us to meet and sign the sale agreement. Patrick agreed readily.

But when we arrived at the signing, there was an unexpected twist—he brought his entire family, including Ria.

Karter and I had arrived earlier, and when they entered, he glanced at me for my reaction. I remained unfazed.

"Since everyone’s here, let’s get this done," I said, handing over the prepared agreement.

Patrick's mother snatched it up, quickly scanning the document. Her eyes lit up when she saw the clause about full payment.

"We need the money transferred quickly. We’ve already picked out a house and are ready to pay the deposit," she said haughtily.

Pleased with herself, she even turned to show Ria the agreement.

"Once the money comes through, we’ll put the down payment on that school district house. It’s perfect for Kevin’s education."

Their delusions were almost comical. Karter, clearly disgusted, finally interjected. "Just a reminder, selling this house and purchasing another will still make it a joint marital property. Ms. Andrea will have a rightful share."

Patrick's mother bristled at his words.

"This is our family’s business! We don’t need your interference—just handle the payment!"

I signaled Karter not to waste his breath on them. Patrick’s expression darkened as he picked up the agreement and flipped to the last page. When he saw the bank details, he finally voiced his concern.

"This house is marital property. Why is the account listed only under Andrea’s name?"

I had anticipated this question and was fully prepared.

"Selling the house involves several procedures, and for large transactions like this, the account holder must handle them in person. You’re so busy with work—surely you wouldn’t have the time, right?"

Patrick wasn’t one to bother with tedious matters. Simply put, he was lazy. Hearing my explanation, he stopped questioning it.

However, Ria couldn’t resist chiming in. "Patrick, I think you should think this through more carefully—"

I cut her off sharply. "Miss Rodriguez, even if you want to claim what’s not yours, you should at least know your place. This house is marital property; as an outsider, your opinion isn’t needed."