The day I signed the divorce papers, I thought I’d seen the last of the Landry family. Six months later, I was living alone in my new condo downtown—a bright, open three-bedroom with a view of the city skyline, bought outright after a freak stroke of luck with the lottery. I didn’t owe anyone anything, least of all my ex-husband, Tyler Landry.
So when my phone lit up late one night with his name, I hesitated. Against my better judgment, I picked up.
“My sister-in-law’s due any day now,” he said, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Their apartment’s too cramped. You’ve got the space, and you’re right by the hospital. Just let them crash there for a bit, okay?”
“No,” I said flatly. “I live alone for a reason, Tyler. Tell her good luck, but I’m not running a maternity ward.”
I figured that was the end of it.
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang.
When I opened the door, there they were—five of them, blocking the hallway like they owned the place. Tyler. His parents. His older brother, Adam. And Adam’s wife, Jessica, her pregnant belly front and center like a weapon.
“Hey, sugar,” Jessica cooed, latching onto my arm before I could step back. “You’ve got this big ol’ place all to yourself, and I’m due in just a couple weeks. You’d be saving us a fortune on a hotel. Please?”
Behind her, Mrs. Landry craned her neck past me, taking in my living room like she was inspecting a house she already planned to buy. “Well, this is nice,” she said. “Three bedrooms? We can make it work. Oh, and once the baby’s born, we’ll need to set up a nursery in one of these rooms.”
I stood frozen, still gripping the doorframe, as Adam strode right past me, dropping a duffel bag on my rug like it belonged there.
“Been on the train all morning,” he said without looking at me. “Jess could use some protein—steak, shrimp, whatever you’ve got. Mom and Dad like pork roast. And grab me a couple bottles of whiskey while you’re out.”
I didn’t move.
Mrs. Landry’s cheerful expression soured. “Why are you just standing there, blocking the door? You’re not saying you don’t want us here, are you?”
Tyler stepped forward, his voice sharp now. “I told you last night they were coming. Mom and Dad came all the way to see you, and this is how you act?”
“I never agreed to it,” I said, finally finding my voice. “We’re divorced. I don’t owe you—or them—anything. Now take your stuff and leave.”
Adam’s lips curled in a smirk. “What’s the big deal? You won the lottery, for Christ’s sake. Scared we’re gonna eat you out of house and home? You’ve always been selfish, but damn…” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “If you were my wife, I’d have kicked your ass out on the street a long time ago.”
Tyler’s parents exchanged a look that was equal parts disdain and disbelief, while Jessica, ever the performer, turned her big watery eyes on me.
“It’s fine,” she said softly, clutching her belly. “She doesn’t have to like me. We all know why they divorced—she couldn’t give Tyler children. I’ll just… I’ll figure something out. Maybe sleep in the park for a couple nights.”
She turned like she was about to leave, tears slipping down her cheeks. Theatrical as hell. I’d seen enough of her act when Tyler and I were married.
But this wasn’t just about family drama anymore. The truth is, I wasn’t fit to host anyone—not with my condition. Every two days, I needed my meds to keep certain… impulses under control. The kind of impulses that didn’t end well for anyone.
And as Jessica sniffled and Tyler argued, I felt that dark itch start to rise in my chest, slow and familiar, like a shadow stretching across the floor.
I tightened my grip on the doorframe. “No,” I said again, my voice low and sharp. “Not today. Not ever.”
They didn’t like that answer. And judging from the way Adam dropped his second bag on my floor, I had the sinking feeling this wasn’t going to be the kind of problem that went away with one locked door.
