Chapter 2: The House They Wanted to Take From Me

That word, sacrifices, took me back twelve years.

When Grant’s wife died, Sadie was only nine.

I quit my job in Chicago and moved to Savannah.

When she cried for her mother in the middle of the night, I was the one who held her until she fell asleep.

When she got her first period, I was the one in the school bathroom, helping her wash the blood out of her skirt.

Later, I used my mother’s inheritance to pay off the mortgage, cover Sadie’s expensive private school tuition, and pour my savings into Grant’s company as seed money.

Utilities, insurance, the car loan—every bill for that house was in my name.

But after Piper showed up, everything changed.

She didn’t have to take care of Sadie.

She didn’t have to spend a dime.

All she had to do was be the biological aunt who sat at the head of the table and was called real family.

I had given twelve years of my life and was still an outsider.

I opened the smart home app, needing to see if my mother’s photo was still on the mantel.

Instead, a notification popped up.

You have been removed from Family Sharing.

The door locks, the cameras, and the alarm system—my access was gone.

Under the account, my status had changed from Owner to Guest.

Then a message from Grant came through.

Piper doesn’t feel safe with an outsider controlling the locks.

I’ve temporarily removed your access. We’ll talk face-to-face when you get back.

I stared at the word outsider and almost laughed.

My name was on the deed.

The security system and its annual fees had always been paid from my account.

Now the people living in my house had demoted me to guest.

An email alert appeared—a forwarded message.

The sender was Grant.

The attachment was titled Quitclaim Deed.

I opened it.

It was a prepared transfer deed.

If I signed, the house in Savannah would be transferred to Sadie at no cost.

In the body of the email, Grant had written:

This is for Sadie’s future security. Once you sign, I’ll compensate you.

We’ve been together for twelve years. You should trust me.

So the wedding hadn’t been an impulse.

While I was away, he had emptied my bedroom, revoked my access to the house, and drawn up the paperwork to take my home from me.

They didn’t just want me in the guesthouse.

They wanted me to sign away my right to ever come home at all.

I didn’t reply.

I called my lawyer.

June? What’s wrong? It’s late.

I need you to handle a property matter for me.

I forwarded him the deed, the mortgage payoff records, the bank transfers, and the security system receipts.

He was quiet for a moment.

The property is registered solely in your name. Grant has no ownership rights. As long as you don’t sign that deed, it has no legal effect.

I’m not signing.

I looked at the phrase real family on my phone, my voice eerily calm.

Please issue an immediate thirty-day notice to vacate under Georgia law to the residents unlawfully occupying my property.

After hanging up, I went back to the hotel room and reopened my suitcase.

I pulled out the clothes I’d packed for my trip home, keeping only the essentials.

While searching for my documents, I opened my photo album.

There was a separate, encrypted folder inside, filled with photos of my mother.

In one, she was standing by a window in that wedding dress.

She had sewn the lace herself.

Each white rose on the hem had taken her a full night to embroider.

She used to say that when I got married, she would help me into it herself.

But now Piper had hacked that dress to pieces and worn it in my house to marry the man I had loved for twelve years.

I slowly slid down to the cold floor.

My chest was so tight I could barely breathe.