**Part 2**
Saturday morning, I cleaned the entire house until every room looked ready for a real-estate listing.
Fresh flowers decorated the dining table. The towels in the guest room were neatly folded. Even Daniel seemed impressed.
“Knew you’d come around,” he said.
At noon, a black SUV entered the driveway.
Vanessa climbed out wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying a designer diaper bag. Her mother followed behind with two suitcases, a portable crib, and enough boxes to make it obvious they weren’t planning a short visit.
Daniel hurried outside.
“Let me get that.”
Vanessa smiled warmly at him.
Then her attention shifted to me.
“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient.”
Her tone suggested she meant exactly the opposite.
“Not at all,” I replied.
Daniel carried her luggage upstairs.
Vanessa followed him before stopping halfway up the stairs.
“Daniel said the guest suite has its own bathroom.”
“It does.”
“And you’ll probably handle meals?”
I looked directly at her.
“Probably?”
She gave a small laugh.
“With the baby, I mean. I’m going to be exhausted.”
Daniel appeared behind her.
“Claire, don’t start.”
I smiled once more.
“I’m not starting anything.”
That afternoon, their sense of entitlement became almost theatrical.
Vanessa adjusted the thermostat to her preference.
Daniel handed her my usual parking spot.
Her mother opened my refrigerator and began writing a grocery list for me.
Then Vanessa entered my home office without bothering to knock.
“I’ll need this room during the day,” she announced. “The guest room doesn’t get enough sunlight.”
“My office?”
“For the baby.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“You’re planning quite a life here.”
She folded her arms.
“Daniel said this was basically his house too.”
There it was.
Exactly the sentence I had been waiting to hear.
“Did he?”
Before Vanessa could respond, Daniel walked in.
“Claire, can we not make Vanessa uncomfortable?”
I looked from one of them to the other.
“No problem.”
I shut my laptop.
“Actually, I have a surprise for everyone.”
Vanessa smiled.
“A baby gift?”
“In a way.”
I told everyone to meet me downstairs at six.
At 5:58, Daniel entered the living room carrying two champagne glasses.
Vanessa was sitting beside him while the baby slept nearby in a carrier.
Her mother flipped through television channels.
At precisely six o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Daniel frowned.
“Expecting someone?”
“Yes.”
I opened the front door.
Rebecca Sloan walked inside carrying a leather folder.
A licensed process server stood behind her.
Daniel’s expression changed immediately.
“What is this?”
I accepted the folder from Rebecca.
“The surprise.”
Vanessa rose to her feet.
“Claire, what are you doing?”
I gave Daniel the first document.
A petition for divorce.
His champagne glass slowly lowered.
Then I handed him another document.
A notice ending his permission to remain in my separately owned property, subject to the legally required notice period.
His mouth fell open.
“You can’t kick me out of my own house.”
Rebecca answered calmly.
“Mr. Mercer, your name is not on the deed.”
The room went silent.
Vanessa turned toward him.
“You told me you owned half.”
Daniel went pale.
But I wasn’t finished.
I laid several bank statements across the coffee table.
“And this,” I said, “is the money you transferred to Vanessa.”
Vanessa’s mother stopped changing channels.
Daniel stared down at the documents.
“That was an investment.”
“Good,” I said. “Then you’ll enjoy explaining it.”
Vanessa’s confidence disappeared.
I looked straight at her.
“You targeted the wrong wife.”
