Chapter 4: The Asset Audit
What they didn't know—what they had never bothered to ask—was who actually held the deed to that "suburban house."
I had been working in high-stakes finance long before I met Mark. When we bought the house, my salary had been the one to cover the down payment, and my name was the only one on the title. The "joint account" they drained for their lavish dinners? It was funded by my passive income.
While they were playing house, I was running a portfolio that dwarfed Mark’s salary.
My attorney, a sharp-witted woman named Elena, sat with me in the hospital room. She laid out the papers. "Since you were married, things are messy, but given the abuse and the documented negligence, we can move for an immediate freezing of the assets. They’ve been living off your money, Claire. They don't have a dime of their own."
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When I told Mark that the credit cards were blocked and the locks on the house had been changed, he laughed. "You can't do that. It's my house."
"Check the deed, Mark," I said, feeling a sense of peace I hadn't felt in years. "And then check the mail. The divorce papers are on their way. And don't worry about the baby—I’ve already secured full custody based on your medical neglect."
