I kept looking at him.
“That money was for hospital bills and the months I planned to take off after our daughter was born.”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“My company is doing fine.”
Claire stared at him.
“You said it didn’t matter because you’d sell this house.”
The silence changed again.
Damon’s head jerked toward her.
“Stop talking.”
“You said after the baby came, you’d sell it and we’d start over.”
I faced my husband.
“You promised her my house?”
His jaw tensed.
“We’re married. I’ve lived here for years. It’s our home.”
I had anticipated that response.
Before the shower, my attorney had instructed me to bring photocopies rather than originals. I opened the last section of the envelope and removed the property deed and the applicable page of our prenuptial agreement.
I placed them next to the ultrasound photograph.
“I bought this house three years before I met you,” I said. “My name is the only name on the deed. The prenup identifies it as my separate property.”
Damon glanced down but refused to touch either page.
“I paid bills here. I paid for repairs.”
“And anything you are legally entitled to claim will be handled legally,” I said. “But you cannot sell this house.”
Claire looked from the deed back to Damon.
He had offered her a future financed by a property he had never owned.
I held his gaze.
“You mistook being invited into my home for owning it.”
His expression hardened.
“Fine. Keep the house. I built my company without you.”
That lie wounded me almost as deeply as his affair.
Before I met Damon, I had spent years growing my design company and carefully saving money. When his construction business nearly collapsed during its first year, I loaned him one hundred twenty thousand dollars from funds I had earned before our marriage.
It had never been a gift.
Damon had personally signed the agreement. His accountant had entered the debt into the company books. Regular payments had continued until the previous year, when Damon asked for patience because the business was struggling with cash flow.
I pulled out the loan record.
“Your company still owes me seventy-four thousand dollars.”
Damon stared at the amount.
Claire looked at him once more.
I could almost see her reconsidering every story he had ever told.
He had claimed I relied financially on him.
He had claimed the house belonged to him.
He had claimed his business had made him rich.
He had claimed their apartment would mark the start of their future.
