Elissa froze mid-motion.
What she’d said was clear: it was her apartment, not their home.
There hadn’t been a “home” for the two of them in years. That was something Rowan himself had destroyed long ago.
Now, all she had was a place that belonged solely to her—a home she didn’t have to worry about anyone ruining.
She turned around, a beat too late, and looked back at the man watching her from the entryway of unit 2202.
Pressing her lips together, she said, “I’m just saying, you’re staying in my apartment.”
Stop twisting my words.
Rowan replied, “And where did you get this apartment from?”
Elissa was straightforward. “From the divorce settlement.”
At that, Rowan beckoned her closer. When she stepped up, a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Two apartments—does that add up to, what, half a million?”
Elissa wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so she gave a vague answer. “Something like that.”
Real estate around here was outrageously expensive; you couldn’t get anything for less than seven figures. Both apartments were spacious, and given current prices, half a million was a conservative estimate.
Rowan arched an eyebrow. “The Atwater family sure knows how to pinch pennies.”
Elissa didn’t really see it that way.
She’d married Frank with a prenup in place. His shares in the Atwater Group, his assets—none of that was hers. Getting these two apartments, and squeezing another half a million out of Carmela, was more than enough for her.
That extra cash? Honestly, it was just to get a little satisfaction.
After all those years with the Murphy family, she’d learned exactly how people like them operated. They were always happy to play the benefactor—to hand over a million-dollar apartment without a second thought, like Carmela had, tossing in an extra place entirely.


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