Finally, I pulled him aside into a quiet hallway.
“Why did you change the lock?” I asked calmly.
He didn’t hesitate. “Because we need to secure it. There are opportunists everywhere. And—well—we need to think strategically about assets now that your dad’s gone.”
“Strategically?” I repeated.
He nodded, lowering his voice. “Look, Emily, grief makes people irrational. I’m just making sure your inheritance stays protected. Our inheritance.”
My chest tightened. “It’s my inheritance.”
His expression flickered—annoyance masked with a polished smile. “Of course. But marriage means sharing. And if you want things separate, just say so. I’m open to… renegotiating.”
Renegotiating. Property. Locks. Divorce threats.
My father’s voice echoed in my mind: I hope you choose yourself.
I handed him the letter.
He skimmed it quickly, his eyes narrowing as he reached the clause excluding him from any rights to the condo without my consent. His jaw tensed.
