Chapter 3 — The House Was Never His
Chapter 3 — The House Was Never His
Three days later...
Caleb unlocked the front door using the emergency key he still carried.
The key fit.
The lock didn't.
It had already been replaced.
A locksmith stepped outside carrying a toolbox.
"Sorry, sir."
"New owner requested complete access replacement."
Caleb laughed.
"What new owner? This is my house."
The locksmith looked confused.
"I don't think so."
At that exact moment, a moving truck backed into the driveway.
Workers carried Caleb's suits, golf clubs, framed degrees, and expensive whiskey collection out through the front door.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Marissa walked outside wearing jeans and a white blouse.
She looked rested.
For the first time in years.
"I packed everything carefully."
"You can't throw me out."
She smiled.
"I didn't."
"The law did."
He stared.
She handed him a folder.
The house deed.
Mortgage papers.
Insurance.
Every document carried only one legal owner.
Marissa Bennett.
Caleb's name wasn't on a single page.
"You said we bought this together."
"We lived here together."
"I bought it."
His face drained of color.
"My truck—"
"Still at the bottom of the pool."
"My accounts—"
"Joint account closed."
"My company stock—"
"You sold yours two years ago."
Neighbors slowed their cars as they passed.
Nobody waved anymore.
Mrs. Palmer quietly watered her roses while pretending not to watch.
The teenagers from the other afternoon sat on bicycles across the street.
Everyone knew.
Everyone had seen the security alert.
Everyone had heard the siren.
Caleb wasn't losing a marriage anymore.
He was losing his reputation.
Then a black sedan pulled into the driveway behind him.
A woman stepped out wearing a navy business suit.
She carried a leather briefcase.
"Mr. Caleb Turner?"
He nodded cautiously.
May you like
"I'm your wife's attorney."
"I have one final document requiring your signature."