Chapter 12 - The Man Who Thought He Owned Me
I had imagined many conversations with Richard after our divorce.
Perhaps an awkward encounter at a restaurant.
A brief exchange at a family birthday.
Maybe, years later, a civilized discussion about Preston and Lila.
I had never imagined confronting him about a document that appeared to transfer my home without my consent.
Marisol arranged for the relevant records to be reviewed and made the appropriate reports.
The notary whose information appeared on the document confirmed that she had not notarized any deed signed by me.
Her records did not show the transaction.
That information became an important part of the investigation.
Richard, however, continued behaving as though he had done nothing wrong.
He called me three times.
I didn't answer.
Then he sent a message.
Evelyn, you're making an enormous mistake. We can still settle this privately.
I forwarded it to Marisol.
She advised me not to engage.
Two days later, I found Richard standing outside my gate.
He wore an expensive gray suit and the same confident expression I had seen across our dinner table for decades.
I spoke through the security intercom.
"What do you want?"
"Open the gate, Evelyn."
"No."
His expression changed.
"Don't be childish."
"State your business."
He glanced toward the camera.
"We need to discuss our family."
"Then contact my attorney."
He exhaled sharply.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
I almost smiled.
"Enjoying what?"
"Making me look like a criminal."
I stared at the screen.
"Richard, you don't need my help with your reputation."
His face hardened.
"I built the life you enjoyed for thirty-four years."
"No. We built that life. You simply accepted all the applause."
He stepped closer to the gate.
"You think that fancy villa makes you important?"
"No."
I paused.
"But it has reminded me that I'm capable of living without your permission."
For once, Richard had no immediate answer.
Then he said something revealing.
"Preston's company could collapse. You know what that would do to this family."
"I know. And I'm sorry he's struggling."
"Then help him."
"Helping my son doesn't require surrendering my home."
Richard shook his head.
"You've become impossible."
I looked toward the lemon trees swaying beside the courtyard.
For decades, I had heard those words whenever I refused to agree with him.
I had once been frightened by them.
Now they sounded almost meaningless.
"Goodbye, Richard."
I ended the call.
He remained outside for another minute before leaving.
That evening, June came over with homemade lemon cake.
We sat beside the fountain.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"Better than I expected."
She smiled.
"That's because you're finally standing on your own side."
I laughed softly.
Then I told her something I hadn't said aloud before.
"I spent years trying to keep everyone happy. Richard. Preston. His friends. His business partners. I thought if I worked hard enough, nobody would be disappointed."
June listened.
"And what happened?"
"They were disappointed anyway."
She reached across the table.
"Then perhaps it's time you started living for something other than their approval."
I looked toward the guesthouse.
My sewing machine stood beside the window.
For years, I had wanted to create a small studio where women rebuilding their lives could learn practical skills.
Perhaps I could finally do it.
For the first time in weeks, I began imagining a future beyond the legal battle.
Then Marisol called.
Her voice was serious.
"Evelyn, we've obtained confirmation that Richard's company attempted to arrange another financial transaction using the property."
I sat upright.
"Another loan?"
"An investor meeting. The lender involved has been notified of the dispute."
"Can they still take my house?"
"We're taking action to prevent that."
She paused.
"But Richard hasn't stopped."
I looked down at my grandmother's ring.
"What is he planning now?"
May you like
Marisol answered.
"He's claiming you voluntarily transferred the property and that Preston can testify to your intentions."
