Chapter 8
Chelsea went to the home office.
Logan followed.
She opened drawers, pulled files, flipped through folders she had never bothered to understand because paperwork was always “Logan’s thing” until it became dangerous.
“Where are the mortgage documents?” she demanded.
“In the cabinet.”
“Which cabinet?”
“The lower one.”
She yanked it open and began searching.
Refinance packet.
Home equity line.
Renovation loan.
Insurance binder.
Business credit agreement.
A private note with Albert’s initials in the corner.
Chelsea froze.
“What is this?”
Logan looked over her shoulder.
His throat tightened.
“I don’t remember that one.”
“You don’t remember?”
“It was during the remodel.”
Chelsea’s voice rose.
“Which remodel?”
He did not answer.
There had been too many.
Kitchen.
Patio.
Guest suite.
Dining room.
The foyer where she had just thrown Albert out.
She pulled another file.
Another signature.
Another reference to Albert Higgins.
Not ownership.
Not final outcome.
Not balances.
But enough to show his name had been woven through the structure of their comfort.
Chelsea’s face paled.
“He never said.”
Logan looked at her.
“He did. We didn’t listen.”
She rounded on him.
“You didn’t listen.”
He almost argued.
Then remembered his father at the door, saying, I’ll remove everything that belongs to me.
Everything.
Not clothes.
Not suitcases.
Liability.
Guarantees.
Support.
Quiet rescue.
Chelsea whispered, “He can’t just take it all back.”
Logan looked at the files spread across the desk.
“No. The paperwork decides what he can do.”
Albert’s words returned.
That’s what your paperwork will decide.
And suddenly the sentence did not sound like a threat.
May you like
It sounded like accounting.
Read the full story 👉 Searching the office, Chelsea discovered Albert’s name hidden through the financial structure of the life she claimed he did not own.
