“You locked me and our newborn baby out in the freezing cold.”

Brent waved his hand dismissively, as if the lock change on the Redwood Crest Drive mansion was a minor detail.

“That was a misunderstanding, and you know it,” he said, his voice rising.

“I was securing the property because of the construction crew.”

“You are a liar, Brent,” I said.

He stepped closer, his face turning a deep, angry red under the porch light.

“Listen to me, Tessa,” he said, pointing a finger at my face.

“You think you can play these games with me because you have money?”

“You think you can just freeze me out of our life?”

“I have rights,” he snarled, his voice echoing off the neighboring houses.

“That mansion in Boulder is marital property.”

“I have spent the last two years maintaining that estate, managing the renovations, and building our life there.”

“If you think you are leaving me with nothing, you are dead wrong.”

I kept my face expressionless, though my stomach was in knots.

“What do you want, Brent?” I asked quietly.