“What?”
She stared at him.
“You gave it to me.”
“I paid for it.”
“No,” I said.
“You used the household account.”
Kyle looked back at me.
“You said that account was ours.”
“I said you could use it for household expenses.”
His jaw tightened.
Thalia suddenly looked uncomfortable in the dress she had been so proud of minutes earlier.
Martin glanced toward the divorce papers on the floor.
“May I?”
I handed him the folder.
He skimmed the first two pages.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“Kyle, did your attorney prepare this?”
Kyle hesitated.
“No.”
“Who did?”
Thalia answered before he could stop her.
“My lawyer.”
Martin looked almost amused.
“Your lawyer drafted documents for another woman’s marriage?”
Thalia folded her arms.
“We were trying to make things efficient.”
“You were trying to make her sign away rights you apparently did not understand.”
Kyle grabbed the papers from him.
“What rights?”
Martin pointed to a paragraph on the second page.
“The house, for one.”
Kyle scoffed.
“The house is mine.”
Celia finally spoke again.
“No, Mr.
Pierce.
The house is owned by Larkspur Residential Trust.”
He froze.
I could see him remembering the closing.
He had been traveling when the estate was purchased.
I handled most of the paperwork.
He signed an occupancy acknowledgment without reading the attachments because he had been in a hurry to reach a meeting.
He believed the property had been placed into one of his asset companies.
It had not.
The trust belonged to me.
Kyle stared at the chandelier above us, the staircase, the marble floor, the room he had just ordered me to leave.
“This is my home.”
“It was our home,” I said.
Martin’s expression turned colder.
“And given tonight’s circumstances, occupancy can be reconsidered immediately.”
Kyle looked toward the riding crop.
For the first time, shame flickered across his face.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
He realized everyone else had seen it.
He stepped toward me.
