“We are still married, Daniel!”

“Not for long,” he said.

“I will take you to court,” she said, pointing a finger at his face.

“I will take every single piece of Whitaker Construction I can get my hands on.”

Martin stared at his own phone, his fingers trembling as he tried to log into his executive portal.

“Access denied,” he muttered, his voice hollow.

“He actually did it. The bastard actually locked me out.”

The rain outside tapped against the high glass windows of the study.

It was a cold, gray afternoon in Columbus, and the room suddenly felt freezing.

“Get out of my house,” my father said to Martin.

“This is my daughter’s house,” Martin sneered, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

“It’s paid for by Whitaker Construction,” my father said.

“And the lease is in the company’s name. You have until tomorrow to pack your things.”

My mother stepped closer to my father, her eyes burning with pure hatred.

“You won’t get away with this, Daniel,” she whispered.

“I already have,” he said.

She grabbed her leather purse from the table.