Chapter 4: The Lock Change
The front door clicked shut behind Julianna, leaving only the sound of Elliot’s ragged breathing and the faint hum of the security system. I didn’t stop walking toward the master suite—my suite—until I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, hard enough to leave a mark.
“Victoria, don’t walk away from me,” he said, voice dropping low, shifting from panic to the sharp, manipulative tone he used to use when he thought he could talk his way out of anything. “You’re acting like a stranger. We built this life together. You think I didn’t notice how quiet you’ve been? How you stopped asking where I was? You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted a reason to cut me out like trash.”
I pulled my wrist free easily, like his grip meant nothing at all. “I didn’t want anything, Elliot. I just stopped being stupid enough to ignore the signs. You thought I was too busy running the board, too busy managing the company’s global expansion, too ‘soft’ to notice the late nights, the hidden credit card statements, the way you flinched every time I mentioned the prenup.”
I nodded toward the hallway camera, its red light blinking steadily. “Every second you’ve stood here arguing is being recorded. Every threat, every lie. And the locksmith is already outside. You hear that?”
Through the thick oak door, we heard the heavy clank of a toolbox being set down, then the sharp scratch of a drill. Elliot’s face went white. He lunged toward the front door, but it wouldn’t budge—magnetic locks, controlled entirely from my phone.
“Ten minutes,” I reminded him, checking my watch. “Seven left. And don’t even think about packing anything that isn’t yours. The custom watch on your wrist? Company property. The leather briefcase? A gift from my grandfather. Leave them both on the counter.”
He stared at me, eyes wild, like he was seeing me for the first time—not the quiet, supportive wife he’d taken for granted, but the woman who’d built the empire he’d tried to steal. Then he turned and ran up the stairs, stumbling over his own feet.
I leaned against the railing, listening to him throw open drawers, slam closet doors, the sounds of panic echoing through the house. Outside, the final click of the new lock cut through the noise.
The house was mine again. Every inch of it.
