Chapter 1: The House He Sold
By the time I carried my newborn daughter through the front door of the house outside Charleston, South Carolina, I had slept perhaps six hours in three days.
My body still felt unfamiliar after childbirth. My stitches pulled when I walked. My arms trembled from exhaustion.
All I wanted was a quiet room, a warm shower, and enough time to sit beside the bassinet and memorize the tiny face I had waited nine months to see.
Instead, my husband was standing in the foyer with his mother.
Neither of them came forward.
Neither asked whether I needed to sit down.
Neither looked at the sleeping baby tucked against my chest for more than a second.
Eric Lawson simply reached into his wallet.
He removed two hundred-dollar bills.
Then he pressed them into my hand.
“You’ll need this for tonight,” he said.
I stared at the money.
Then at him.
“For what?””
His mother, Diane, answered before he could.
“For a room somewhere, Megan. Nothing fancy, obviously. There are inexpensive places farther outside the city.””
I actually laughed once, quietly.
Then I stopped.
“You want me to take a four-day-old baby to a motel?””
Eric sighed.
“Megan, don't make this harder than it needs to be.””
I looked down at Emma.
Her tiny mouth moved in her sleep.
She had my dark hair.
At least, that was what everyone had said in the hospital.
I looked back at my husband.
“What are you talking about?””
Eric shoved his hands into his pockets.
“The house has been sold.””
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the sentence.
The house had been sold.
Our house.
The house where I had grown up.
The house my father had spent years restoring before he died.
The house I had inherited from him.
The house that had never belonged to Eric.
My fingers tightened around the two hundred dollars.
“You sold the house?””
“I handled it,” Eric replied.
Diane folded her arms.
“We needed to make some financial decisions while you were occupied with the baby.””
I stared at her.
“Occupied?””
“You were in labor,” she said.
“Eric had to deal with adult matters.””
Something cold moved through me.
“Where is the deed?””
Eric's jaw tightened.
“Megan—”
“Where is the deed?””
Diane gave a little shrug.
“Everything has been legally handled.””
“By whom?””
Eric finally looked directly at me.
“By me.””
I glanced around the foyer.
The wide staircase my father had restored by hand.
The old heart-pine floors.
The photographs along the hallway.
The brass chandelier I had polished every Christmas since I was nineteen.
Everything looked exactly the same.
That somehow made it worse.
“When?””
“Three days ago.””
I blinked.
Three days ago.
I had been in a hospital bed three days ago.
I had been bleeding.
I had been terrified.
I had been holding Eric's hand while our daughter was born.
And during that same time, he had apparently sold my home.
“To whom?””
“The buyer wants possession immediately,” Eric said.
“That's why you're giving me two hundred dollars?””
His expression hardened.
“That's enough for a cheap room for a night or two while you figure things out.””
Diane nodded.
“You'll need to learn to be practical now. You have a baby.””
I looked at the money again.
Two hundred dollars.
My husband had just told me that I was homeless while handing me enough money to spend one night in a questionable motel.
Then I started laughing.
Eric frowned.
“What is funny?””
I carefully adjusted Emma against my shoulder.
“You really believe you sold this house?””
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“I signed the contract myself.””
“I know.””
Diane's eyes narrowed.
I folded the money and slipped it into my coat pocket.
“Then I suppose somebody should have told you who actually owned it.””
Silence.
Eric stared at me.
Diane's arms slowly dropped from her chest.
“What does that mean?”” Eric asked.
“It means,” I said softly, “you should call your attorney.””
Eric scoffed.
“My attorney already reviewed everything.””
“Then call him again.””
“Megan, you're exhausted.””
“Yes.””
“You've just had a baby.””
“Yes.””
“So you're not thinking clearly.””
I smiled.
“No, Eric. I'm thinking more clearly than I have in years.””
He stepped closer.
“Don't threaten me.””
“I haven't threatened you.””
I reached into my overnight bag.
My fingers closed around my phone.
Eric's eyes followed the movement.
“Who are you calling?””
“My attorney.””
Diane suddenly stepped between us.
“There's no need to be dramatic.””
I looked at her.
“Diane, you were involved in this?””
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I unlocked my phone.
Then Eric's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
The color drained from his face.
“It's my attorney.””
“Answer it.””
He hesitated.
The phone rang again.
Finally, he picked up.
“Hello?””
I watched his expression change.
Confusion.
Then irritation.
Then fear.
“What do you mean?””
He turned away.
“No. That's impossible.””
I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but I could hear the panic entering Eric's.
“What document?””
Diane moved toward him.
“Eric?””
He held up a hand.
“Wait.””
His eyes landed on me.
“You said she owned the house.””
Diane froze.
“What?””
Eric's face had gone pale.
He turned away again.
“Read it to me.””
A pause.
Then:
“Don't tell me to calm down.””
His hand began to shake.
I looked down at my daughter.
Emma had opened her eyes.
Tiny, dark, unfocused eyes.
I kissed her forehead.
“Welcome home, baby girl.””
Then I looked at Eric.
Except he wasn't looking at me anymore.
He was staring at Diane.
May you like
And his next words made her take one step backward.
“You told me the deed was in my name.””
