“Are you sure about this, Tessa?” she asked, sitting beside me on the sofa. “That house was your dream.”

“My dream didn’t involve being locked out in the rain with my baby,” I said.

I tapped the link.

The buyer’s name on the contract was masked under an LLC, but the cash offer was listed in bold, black numbers.

It was the full valuation of the estate.

No contingencies. No inspections. A twenty-four-hour close.

I scrolled down to the signature line.

My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone.

If I signed this, Brent would have nothing left to fight for.

The house belonged to me alone; my inheritance had paid for the down payment and the monthly upkeep, and the deed was solely in my name.

Our prenuptial agreement was airtight on that point.

“Do it,” Molly whispered, watching me. “Take his leverage away.”

With a steady hand, I typed my digital signature onto the document.

I hit submit.

A green checkmark appeared on the screen: *Document successfully signed and routed to Elliot.*

I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for months.