Chapter 3

After the wake, I spent a night in the hospital. On the afternoon of the third day, I went back to the Kelton residence to pick up my IDs and the paperwork I needed for the divorce.

The moment I walked in, the staff were already hauling my things out. Clothes, books, and personal belongings had been crammed into cardboard boxes and stacked in the hallway. The wedding photo on the wall had been taken down and replaced with a portrait of Wyatt standing in a field of flowers.

He came out of the master bedroom wearing my pajamas. When he saw me, he instinctively pulled the collar tighter. "Don't get the wrong idea. You scared me so badly at the wake that I've been having nightmares, so Tamara asked me to stay here for a few days."

That was what he said, but he was also wearing the matching couple's slippers Tamara and I used to wear. Inside the bedroom, my pillow and toiletries had all been removed. A photo of Wyatt sat on the nightstand, and half the closet had been emptied to make room for his clothes.

Whenever I used to travel for work, even if it was only a week, Tamara would have the staff clean the room every day and wouldn't let anyone touch my things. She told me that no matter how long I was gone, this room would only ever belong to us.

Now it had only been two days, and she'd already moved Wyatt in.

I walked into the closet and pulled out a suitcase. Wyatt followed me. "Tamara only said I could stay temporarily. Please don't fight with her over this."

I ignored him and packed my IDs, contracts, and personal documents. When he saw I wasn't going to respond, he reached over and held the suitcase shut. "You can't take these."

He pulled out a pair of sapphire cufflinks. They were Tamara's wedding gift to me. She had fastened them on my sleeves herself on our wedding day.

Wyatt pinned the cufflinks to his own cuffs and turned to the mirror to adjust them. "Tamara said this color suits me better."

I backhanded him across the face. The crack echoed through the closet, and Wyatt stood frozen with his hand on his cheek.

I took the cufflinks off him, wiped them down three times with a disinfectant wipe, and dropped them in the trash. "I don't want anything someone else has worn. It feels dirty."

Resentment flashed in Wyatt's eyes. He lunged for my suitcase. We struggled back and forth until he suddenly let go, stumbling backward into the wardrobe. His forehead struck the wardrobe and immediately reddened.

Tamara walked into the bedroom right at that moment. The second Wyatt saw her, the act was back. "Don't blame him, Tamara. He's just upset that I moved in."

Tamara rushed over to steady him. Once she was sure he wasn't seriously hurt, she turned to me. "He's only staying temporarily. Did you really have to hit him?"

"Who said I care about him living here?" I closed the suitcase. "I was just teaching him to ask before he takes someone else's things."

Tamara noticed the cufflinks in the trash and her expression darkened. "Wyatt liked them. Would it have killed you to let him have them? It's not like you haven't been giving him everything your whole life anyway."

So she knew. She knew I'd been giving things up for years. She just thought I should keep doing it, the same way my parents did.

I set the suitcase aside and took the last framed photo of us off the wall. Tamara frowned. "What are you doing?"

I opened the frame, pulled out the photo, and tore it in half right in front of her. I put the half with me in it into the suitcase, and her half went into the trash, on top of the sapphire cufflinks.

"Clearing space for him. Is that generous enough for you?"

Tamara's expression froze, and Wyatt immediately took her hand. "He's still angry. Don't take it personally."

Then he deliberately leaned closer to her, and she didn't push him away. She looked at me, her voice hard and cold. "If you can't stand having Wyatt here, then move out for a while. Once he's settled down, I'll have someone bring you back."

I nodded. "Fine."

I took out my phone and told the moving crew waiting outside to come in. More than a dozen workers filed through the front door.

They tagged and labeled everything, from the antiques in the living room to the wine collection in the cellar to the collectibles in the study, even the mahogany dining set Tamara loved most.

Tamara's face finally changed. "Who said you could touch any of this?"

"The receipts and purchase records are all in my name." I handed her the inventory list. "If I'm moving out, I'm taking what's mine."

In less than 30 minutes, the once-lavish Kelton residence was stripped almost bare. Wyatt watched the piano being carried out and couldn't help himself. "Do you really have to go this far?"

I stopped in my tracks. "You wanted to live here, didn't you? A little more space should make it easier to redecorate."

As I reached the front door, Tamara called out behind me. "Emmett. If you walk out that door, don't expect me to come get you. I'm already giving you a way out, so don't push your luck."

I turned back. She looked exactly the same as she had three years ago, when she proposed to me. Back then, she held my hand and promised I would always have a place in this family. Now she was letting another man move into our home.

But all I felt was calm.

"I'm the one who doesn't want you."