“It’s an investment in my future,” he said. “You’ve chosen to be stubborn. If you had just signed the separation agreement I sent you last week, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

“I’m not signing anything,” I said.

“Then you’ll have to explain to the kids why we’re going to court,” he said. “And frankly, Alex, you can’t afford a prolonged legal battle. You don’t have the income.”

I looked out the window of his office.

The crane was slowly lowering the dining room ceiling onto the back of the second flatbed truck.

“You’d be surprised what I can afford,” I said.

“I’m trying to be generous here,” Richard said, his tone sharpening. “I’m letting you stay in the Westlake house until the end of the month. But after that, I’m putting it on the market. The equity belongs to both of us, and I need my share.”

I felt a cold smile touch my lips.

“The house,” I repeated.

“Yes, the house,” he said. “And don’t try to lock me out. I still have the keys, and my attorney says I have every right to access the property.”