Ruby's POV
“Enough!” My voice rang out sharper than I expected. I shoved him backward and stepped protectively in front of my trembling mother. “Listen carefully, Declan. First, my mom owes you nothing. You’re the ones who owe her. Second, you said this house belongs to the two of us?”
I paused, letting each word hit where it hurt most. “It seems you forgot something. The deed, since day one, has only one name on it. This apartment is my premarital property. My mother spent her life savings to buy it for me. It has nothing to do with you or your mother.”
Declan’s eyes flew wide open. His mouth hung uselessly, and no sound came out.
His mother looked even worse, like someone had grabbed her by the throat; disbelief and panic twisted across her face.
My voice unwavering, I continued, “Since you don’t want to be a family with us, fine. You have three days. Pack your things and move out of my home.”
I then opened the door without hesitation and helped my mom outside.
Only when we were finally back in her apartment did the tension that had held me together all evening begin to loosen.
I barely slept that night.
Mom, on the other hand, dozed lightly for a couple of hours. But by dawn, she was already sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me with nothing but worry and exhaustion in her eyes.
I held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her without saying a word.
Then my phone rang with Declan’s name flashing across the screen.
As soon as I answered, his impatient voice came immediately. “Hello? Ruby, are you still throwing a tantrum? Why isn’t your mom here to cook? I’m going to be late for work. There’s nothing in the fridge. Are you planning to starve me?”
His tone was so matter-of-fact, so entitled, as if everything was back to normal, as if last night never happened, as if my mother waking up at dawn to cook for him was a natural, unchangeable routine.
I almost laughed from pure disbelief.
So, in his eyes, everything last night was just a minor mood swing?
And he still expected my mother to show up and serve him like some personal maid?
My voice turned icy as I replied, “Declan, did you lose your memory, or do you really think I was joking last night?”
He paused for a second before his voice sharpened with annoyance. “Are you done yet, Ruby? It was just a small issue! Are you really going to hold a grudge over that? My mom said a few things, okay, fine. And I admitted the elevator card was fake, didn’t I? What more do you want? Tell your mom to come over and cook, I’m starving!”
“Listen carefully, Declan,” I said slowly, every word cold and deliberate. “First, my mother is not your family’s maid. She has no obligation to cook for you. Second, I don’t joke. I said you have three days to move out. Yesterday was day one. That means you only have two days left. Once the time is up, if you and your mother are still there, you’ll deal with the consequences.”
“Ruby! You, bitch—”
Declan finally realized I wasn’t bluffing. His voice jumped from irritation to full-blown panic.
Yet I hung up on him without hesitation and immediately dragged his number into my blocklist.
For the next two days, I stayed with my mom, calming her emotions while also working nonstop with real estate agents.
On the afternoon of the third day, I received a call from Wesley Knight, the young agent who was helping me sell the apartment. His voice sounded cautious as he said, “Mrs. Blackwood, we have a bit of a problem. We brought clients to view the apartment today, but your husband and an older woman blocked the door. They were very agitated. They kept shouting that the house isn’t for sale, and anyone who tries to view it should get lost.”
My eyes turned cold.
Of course. They chose the most shameless and unreasonable method of resistance.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. This must’ve caused you trouble.” I forced my anger down and kept my voice steady. “Everyone inside that apartment, including my husband, is staying there without my permission. Their presence is illegal. I’ll handle this immediately.”
The moment I ended the call, I grabbed my coat and keys with no hesitation.
It was time to clear out the parasites who had taken over my home.
Standing in front of the familiar security door, I took a long breath and unlocked it with my own key.
As soon as the door swung open, a mix of takeout containers and unfamiliar perfume hit me in the face.
At the entrance, a pair of glittery high heels, which were definitely not mine, were tossed carelessly on the floor.
The coffee table was buried under empty snack bags, instant noodle cups, and half-open takeout boxes with grease dried on the surface.
But the worst part was that there was a young woman I had never seen before who was lounging on my sofa, wearing my silk nightgown, one leg crossed over the other as she watched TV like she owned the place.
She looked barely twenty, with full makeup on, relaxed and completely at ease.
