Chapter 3: The Lie With My Name Missing
I printed the listing before confronting him.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because some part of me still needed proof.
Maybe because I was afraid he would smile and tell me I misunderstood.
That was what Lucas did best.
He softened ugly truths until they almost looked beautiful.
I waited until evening.
The house was quieter.
Most of his relatives had gone out.
Beatrice was upstairs.
Lucas was sitting on the couch watching television.
Like nothing had happened.
“Lucas.””
He looked up.
“What?””
I placed the printed listing on the table.
His face changed instantly.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“You found that?””
I stared.
“That’s your first question?””
He picked up the paper.
“Felicity, this isn’t what you think.””
I laughed.
“Everyone says that right before explaining exactly what I think.””
He stood.
“It was just a conversation.””
“A conversation?””
“You know I work in real estate. People ask about my future plans.””
“You listed my house.””
“Our house.””
“My name is not anywhere.””
He was quiet.
Because he knew.
I pointed at the paper.
“You told people you owned this.””
“I said it was where we would live.””
“No. You said it was yours.””
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to tell people my fiancée owns the house?””
I stared at him.
There it was.
The truth.
Not family.
Not love.
Pride.
“You’re embarrassed that I have something you don’t.””
“That’s not fair.””
“It’s exactly fair.””
The front door opened.
Beatrice walked in.
She immediately sensed the tension.
“What happened?””
Lucas didn’t answer.
I did.
“Your son listed my house as his property.””
Beatrice looked at Lucas.
Then at me.
And instead of looking shocked…
she smiled.
“You found out sooner than I expected.””
My chest tightened.
“What?””
She placed her purse down.
“Felicity, you need to understand something. A marriage cannot work when one person holds everything.””
“I agree.””
I looked at Lucas.
“That’s why I thought we would build together.””
Beatrice shook her head.
“You’re being selfish.””
I almost couldn’t believe it.
“My house. My money. My parents’ gift. And I’m selfish?””
She stepped closer.
“You don’t understand how families work.””
“No, I understand perfectly.””
I looked around.
“At first, you took a key.””
I pointed upstairs.
“Then you took rooms.””
I looked at Lucas.
“Then you took credit.””
I picked up the listing.
“What’s next?””
Nobody answered.
That night, I packed a small bag.
Not because I was leaving forever.
Because I needed space to think.
When I walked toward the door, Lucas followed.
“Where are you going?””
“Somewhere I can breathe.””
“You’re overreacting.””
I stopped.
“Lucas, if I disappeared tomorrow, would you notice?””
His face changed.
“Of course.””
“Would your family notice?””
He didn’t answer.
I left.
I drove to my friend Hannah’s apartment.
She opened the door wearing pajamas.
One look at my face and she stepped aside.
“What happened?””
I put my bag down.
“My fiancé gave my house key to his mother.””
Her expression changed.
“He did what?””
I handed her the papers.
She read silently.
Then she looked up.
“Felicity.””
“What?””
“You need to check your house records.””
“Why?””
She hesitated.
“Because if he’s comfortable pretending he owns it…”
She looked at the listing again.
“…you need to know what else he’s done.””
The next morning, I contacted a lawyer.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because I wanted answers.
And the first document she requested was something I never thought I’d need.
The title history of my own home.
Three hours later, my lawyer called.
Her voice sounded different.
“Felicity, I found something.””
I sat up.
“What?””
A pause.
Then she said:
“Someone tried to transfer partial ownership of your house last month.””
My hands went cold.
“Who?””
May you like
Another pause.
“Your fiancé.””
