“You’re not,” she said. “You’re the woman who is going to take what’s hers.”

I looked down at the paper, feeling a cold resolve settle over me.

“Jerome says we can leverage this,” I said.

“If I agree to take over the mortgage arrears and handle the sale of the house, we can strip his name from the deed.”

“You want the house?” Rachel asked, tilting her head.

“I want the equity,” I corrected. “I want to sell it, pay off the debt associated with my name, and walk away with the profit.”

“And Scott?”

“He will be left with the debt he accumulated on his own,” I said.

“The personal loans, the credit cards he used to buy Kayla’s jewelry, the legal fees.”

“It’s exactly what he deserves,” Rachel said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

The diner’s bell chimed as the door opened, letting in a gust of cold wind.

I looked up, half-expecting to see Scott, but it was just a group of construction workers in bright orange vests.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.