“Why is my stuff outside?” I demanded.

He hesitated. Then Claire dropped a folder on the table.

Inside were property documents—with her name on them.

“She owns half the house,” Lucas said softly.

“No, no,” I shook my head. “You told me your parents left it to you.”

“They did,” he mumbled. “But legally… Claire has a claim.”

“I’m exercising that claim,” she said, sipping her wine. “Which means you need to leave.”

Stunned, betrayed, I stumbled out with what dignity I had left. I drove to a hotel and sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Then, I called an old friend—Ethan, a private investigator.

“Claire?” he repeated. “That’s strange. When you got married, I ran a check on Lucas. There’s no record of a cousin named Claire. He’s an only child.”

My blood turned to ice.

“No,” I whispered. “That can’t be…”

“Think, Avery. Have you ever seen a photo of them together as kids? Any proof she’s family?”

I hadn’t. Fueled by disbelief and adrenaline, I returned to the house—with Ethan behind me.

We crept in quietly. The hallway was dark. And then we heard it—laughter—from the bedroom.

I pushed open the door.

There they were. Lucas and Claire. In bed.

They froze, caught. Lucas scrambled for words. Claire simply smirked.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“Not his cousin,” Ethan said coldly. “Never was.”

Claire shrugged. “We did what we had to. His parents would’ve never accepted us.”

“And me? What was I? A cover?” I snapped.

Lucas looked at me with shame in his eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

But it had. I filed for divorce the next morning. I left the house and never looked back.

Let him keep it. Let them rot in the mess they created. Because someday, Lucas will realize he didn’t just lose a home. He lost me.