My Husband Locked Me Out of Our Home for Another Woman Chapter 06

My Husband Locked Me Out of Our Home for Another Woman Chapter 06

I moved into a short-term rental near the office.

The first thing I did after walking in was revoking Nolan’s access to every connected smart device in our old

place, the locks, the thermostat, the automated blinds, and the security cameras.

Nolan called more than twenty times.

I only replied once with a brief text: [The move-out checklist has been sent to your email.]

A little while later, the property manager texted me: [Ms. Hart, Mr. Whitmore has been waiting down in the lobby for a long time. Should we let him up?”]

I replied smoothly: [Keep his key fob active until the final walk-through date. But all other visitors must register at the front desk.]

Half an hour later, Nolan sent me a photo.

Sienna’s pill organizer, essential oil diffuser, slippers, and sleep machine were piled outside the master

bedroom door.

So was the sign that said: [Sleeping. Please Do Not Disturb.]

Then he sent a voice message.

“Elena, I didn’t know she had so much stuff here.”

I did not open the second one.

He sent another.

“I made her move out.”

I replied: [That’s your business.]

He kept going.

“The master bedroom is completely empty now.”

I replied: [So is the condo.]

Sienna sent me a long message.

Sienna: [Elena, I never meant to steal your home. I just needed a stable environment for my recovery. Nolan helped me because he felt guilty.]

I blocked her.

Claire called me.

“He may try to make an issue out of the money he contributed.”

I opened my laptop.

“I have the receipts.”

“What about the transferrecords?”

“Compiled into a PDF.”

“And proof you reimbursed him?”

“Bank confirmations saved.”

Claire gave a short laugh.

“Good. You’re more clearheaded than half the people I’ve seen in divorce cases.

Then Mrs. Whitmore called.

I answered.

She started yelling the second the call connected.

“Elena, do you have any shame? Selling the future marital home before the wedding? Are you trying to bring a curse upon our family?”

I turned on the recording function.

“Mrs. Whitmore, do you know who’s been sleeping in the master bedroom?”

The other end went quiet.

“Sienna is sick. She’s pitiful.”

“I slept on the couch with stomach pain. Was I not pitiful?”

Mrs. Whitmore’s voice rose even louder.

“You’re healthy. Would it have killed you to tolerate it for a few days? A woman who nitpicks this much, no wonder Nolan thinks you’re cold.”

I saved the recording.

“Whether your son thinks I’m cold or not, I’m no longer subscribing to his nonsense.”

She was so angry I could hear her breathing hard.

“If you dare call off this wedding, the Whitmore family will never accept you.”

“I never applied.”

I hung up and left the Whitmore family group chat.

Someone tagged me in the chat.

I did not look.

That night, Nolan sent me a message.

Nolan: (I sat in the living room. I finally realized the couch really is hard.]

I glanced at it.

Deleted it.

Ten minutes later, he sent another.

Nolan: [I bought your stomach medicine.]

I placed my phone face down on the table.

The next morning, I went to the storage unit to check the moving list.

The bed, desk, design files, cookware, clothes, everything that belonged to me was being packed item by

item.

Nolan sent an email.

The subject line read: [Can We Talk?]

I did not open it.

I replied with the move-out checklist instead: utility meter readings, HOA fee settlement, number of key fobs, number of keys.

The last line said:

[Possession date, 10 a.m. Late arrival will be handled according to the contract.]

He had finally sat on that couch.

But I was no longer in pain.