Chapter 3: The Booby Trap
A week later, Sarah returned. She didn't come alone. She strutted up the driveway wearing designer sunglasses, accompanied by a slick, expensive-looking divorce attorney.
She pounded on the front door, wearing a smug smile. When David opened it, she crossed her arms. "I’m back for what’s legally mine, David. Half the bank accounts, alimony, and I’m forcing the sale of this house. My lawyer says you have zero proof of anything that happened that day."
David leaned against the doorframe, projecting an aura of quiet defeat. "You really want to do this, Sarah? You want to drag this into a courtroom?"
"I’m going to ruin you," she hissed, leaning in close. "By the time I'm done, you and that pathetic old woman will be living on the street. Now let us in so my appraiser can look at the kitchen."
May you like
David sighed, stepping aside to let them into the entryway. "Okay. If you want to do it the hard way, we do it the hard way. But before you appraise the kitchen, you might want to look at what I installed right above the cabinets before I deployed."
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. Her smug smile faltered. "What are you talking about?"
