James’s father finally speaks, voice low. “Helena,” he says, “let’s be reasonable.”
You look at him. “I am,” you reply. “Reasonable is why I’m not calling the police about the attempted fraud.”
Diane’s face goes gray.
Emma shifts in her chair, suddenly aware she’s not the prize in this story.
She’s the evidence.
You turn your gaze to Emma. “You can stay,” you say politely. “Or you can leave. But if you stay, understand you’re sitting at the table where your future just got negotiated without your consent.”
Emma’s mouth opens. “Diane told me you two were separated,” she says quickly, desperation showing through the polish.
You look at James. “Were we?” you ask.
James whispers, “No.”
Emma’s eyes flash with anger. She turns to James, voice sharp. “You said she was out of the picture.”
James doesn’t answer.
He can’t.
Because he’s spent years letting women fight each other so he never has to fight himself.
Emma stands abruptly, chair scraping. “I’m not doing this,” she snaps, grabbing her purse. “I’m not auditioning for a man who can’t even admit what he’s done.”
Diane’s voice rises. “Sit down, Emma—”
Emma ignores her and storms out, heels clicking like punctuation.
The door slams.
The carols keep playing.
It’s almost funny.
Diane looks like she might explode from the inside. “You just cost James his future,” she hisses.
You smile. “No,” you reply. “He did. I just refused to cover it with tablecloths.”
James’s hands shake. “Helena,” he says quietly, “what do you want?”
You pause, because the question is wrong.
He’s still treating this like a negotiation.
Like you’re an obstacle with a price tag.
You lean forward. “I want peace,” you say. “And I want my life back.”
Diane scoffs. “You’ll get a settlement,” she snaps. “You’ll sign the papers. You’ll move on.”
You nod slowly. “I will move on,” you agree. “But not the way you planned.”
James swallows. “What does that mean?” he asks.
You open your folder again and slide out a second page.
A deed.
Your name on it.
And the date, showing you purchased the house with funds from your inheritance, the one Diane always called “insignificant.”
Diane’s eyes widen. “That’s—” she starts.
“It’s legally mine,” you say calmly. “And starting tonight, you’re leaving.”
James’s face twists. “You can’t kick us out on Christmas,” he protests.
