Chapter 5 - The LeaseThe following week, I hired an attorney named Priya Ashford. She reviewed the security footage, the login attempts, the property paperwork, the messages.
"You need formal separation," she said. "A lease. Written boundaries. No verbal arrangements."
"I don't want Sienna homeless."
"Then protect Sienna without giving up the house."
That became the rule I lived by. Renata received an official notice — she could sign a proper lease at reduced rent, move every utility into her own name within ten business days, return every key, and communicate only through email about the property. If she refused, eviction proceedings would begin. If any forged paperwork surfaced, Priya would forward everything to prosecutors.
For two days, Renata sent nothing. On the third day, she emailed one sentence: I'll sign.
No apology. Just surrender disguised as exhaustion.
The criminal case against Rhett uncovered the bigger twist. He hadn't come back because he loved Renata or wanted to help fix her debt. He'd been investigated before for targeting women with access to property. He saw that Renata lived in a house owned by a brother trained since childhood to rescue her, and he tried turning our family's pattern into money.
When Renata read the report, she went pale. "He said we could make things right," she whispered.
Priya looked at her. "People trying to make things right don't hide license plates with duct tape."
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Renata cried then. Genuine crying, not performance. The story she'd been telling herself was finally over.
But regret didn't erase the consequences. She signed the lease, paid the electric deposit, paid the gas, paid the internet, and returned the shop key in a padded envelope. I changed every lock anyway.
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