I felt violated.
That afternoon, I changed the locks. Then I searched Thomas’s office.
His desk was almost empty, but the locked bottom drawer caught my attention. I pried it open with a kitchen knife.
Inside was a yellow folder labeled:
**MOTHER PLAN AND CREDIT**
My stomach turned.
The first document was supposedly signed by me, authorizing Mrs. Higgins to stay in the apartment indefinitely.
The signature looked like mine.
Almost.
But it was traced.
Forged.
Then I found something worse.
A business loan application in Thomas’s name listed my apartment as collateral. Inside were copies of my ID, property deed, and financial documents I had never given him.
At the bottom was a note:
**Valuation visit pending. Confirm family member’s presence at property to support bank approval.**
Now I understood.
Mrs. Higgins had not moved in because she needed help.
She was there to make the apartment look like part of a stable family arrangement so Thomas could trick the bank.
I photographed every page and sent everything to my attorney, Sarah Jenkins.
Then I called Thomas.
He answered warmly.
“My love, are you home? How’s your father?”
“He’s doing better than your conscience,” I said.
Silence.
“What are you talking about?”
“I found the yellow folder.”
For one second, Thomas stopped breathing.
“I was going to tell you,” he said.
“Before or after you stole my apartment?”
“Don’t be dramatic. I only needed a temporary guarantee to save my company.”
“You forged my signature.”
“We’re married,” he snapped. “Assets are shared.”
“My home is not your emergency fund.”
“My agency was collapsing,” he said. “If I didn’t get that loan, I would lose everything.”
“So you decided losing me was acceptable.”
“My mother had nowhere else to go,” he argued. “I promised her I’d find a place.”
“And you chose my home?”
“I knew you’d say no.”
“Because the answer was no.”
“That’s why I had to do it this way,” he shouted. “You’re selfish with your success.”
That was when I understood.
Thomas wasn’t sorry.
