“Mark,” I said coolly. “You still don’t get it, do you? It was never about the room. It was about the fact that you stood in my house, looked me in the eye, and chose the woman of your life. And it wasn’t me.”
“But I’m out of money!” he cried, the truth finally spilling out. “I spent my savings on the down payment for the Tesla! I thought your money… you know… would cover us!”
“My money is mine,” I interrupted, my voice like ice. “And your choices are yours. You wanted to be the king of the castle with your queen mother. Well, you’re free to build your kingdom elsewhere. Good luck with your new life.”
I hung up before he could respond and blocked his number. I felt a pang, not of sadness, but of pity. He was a parasite who had just been scraped off his host, now flailing in the open air, realizing he didn’t know how to survive on his own.
The peace lasted for two hours. Then, I got a notification on my phone from the front gate security camera.
A beat-up tow truck, not a Tesla, had pulled up to the curb. Mark got out. He looked haggard, unshaven. He approached the wrought-iron gate. He tried the keypad, punching in our old anniversary code.
ACCESS DENIED, the system flashed.
He looked around, then began to try and climb the fence. He actually thought I wouldn’t have changed the gate code. He thought he could just force his way back into my life.
I pressed a button on the app.
“Warning,” a loud, automated voice boomed from the gate’s speaker system. “You are trespassing on private property. The authorities have been notified.”
Mark yelped and fell backward off the fence, landing in a heap on the sidewalk. He scrambled back to the truck and it sped away.
I deleted the footage. He was no longer my problem.
