Kate's face went white. She shrank behind Andrew's tall frame like a frightened child.
I held my ground, voice cold as steel. "Remember this moment. From now on, we're done. Pray you never cross my path again."
I turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
"Leah! Where do you think you're going?" Andrew's composure cracked into panic behind me.
I didn't look back.
My apartment sat in the heart of downtown. I'd bought it outright before the marriage—every cent of my savings plus a little help from my parents. It was mine.
After the wedding, Andrew complained it was too far from Delgado Group headquarters, so we moved into his villa. Over time, this place became my secret sanctuary—the only refuge when being Mrs. Delgado became suffocating.
I drove on autopilot, running on fumes. All I wanted was to crawl into my shell and lick my wounds in peace.
But the moment I pushed the door open, the sanctuary shattered.
Instead of the crisp lemon verbena I loved, the air hung thick with cloying sweetness.
Pink fuzzy slippers with pom-poms sat at the entryway. Not mine.
I stepped into the living room. Cartoon throw pillows littered my minimalist sofa. Fashion magazines and half-eaten snacks cluttered the coffee table.
Acid rose in my throat. I walked stiffly to the bedroom and pushed the door open.
My breath caught. My simple bedding had been stripped and replaced with an absurd lace-trimmed princess set. On the vanity, my skincare had been shoved into a corner, replaced by gaudy new bottles.
The wardrobe hung open. Inside—frilly dresses I'd never seen, sized to flaunt a petite frame.
Rage surged through me, drowning out the curse's lingering pain. My hands trembled.
"Who let you in?"
My voice scraped raw against the violated space.
"Leah? You're back?"
Kate sauntered out of my study, turning one of my crystal ornaments in her hands without a shred of guilt.
"I just came to tidy up," she said lightly. "Andrew mentioned this place was sitting empty—such a waste. My internship's nearby, so I'm staying here a while."
She set the ornament down and surveyed the room with proprietary satisfaction. "I arranged things pretty well, don't you think? Much cozier now."
My nails dug into my palms until skin broke. "This is my house. Who gave you permission to touch my things?"
Kate tilted her head, smile saccharine. "Leah, don't be like that. You and Andrew are married. Sure, you bought this before the wedding, but now it's all joint property, isn't it?"
She smoothed her dress. "Andrew said so himself—what's his is mine. If I want to live here, of course he agrees."
Marital joint property. The audacity was breathtaking.
"So he agreed you could break into my private space and contaminate my belongings?"
"Oh, don't put it so harshly." Kate walked over, reaching for my hand like we were best friends.
I slapped it away.
She shrugged, unbothered. "We're practically family. Why draw such clear lines? You don't even live here—leaving it empty is wasteful. I'm just adding some life to the place."
She studied my face with mock concern. "Leah, you look terrible. Is the poison still in your system? You should really see a doctor. Don't worry about things here—I'll make myself at home."
A pause. Then, with casual cruelty: "Oh, right. I'm in the master bedroom. The guest room still has some of your old stuff—you can rest there."
"Get out."
My voice dropped, deadly calm.
Kate froze. "Leah—"
"Now. Take your trash and get out of my house."
