My mother sl@pped me so hard I sl@mmed into the wall. My sister-in-law s/p/a/t at me, and my brother-in-law laughed and called me a gold digger, thinking my husband was away on duty.

The chandelier above us trembled from the force of my body hitting the wall. My cheek burned. My ears rang. My mother, Eleanor, stood in front of me in her pearl necklace and silk blouse, breathing like she had finally done something noble.

“You married him for his military benefits,” she hissed. “For his pension. For this house.”

I lifted my eyes slowly.

This house.

The one I had paid the down payment on before Daniel and I were married. The one I had renovated with my own consulting money while everyone called me lucky. The one Daniel insisted we put in my name because, as he once said, “You were my home before any of this.”

I did not say that. Not yet.

My sister-in-law, Chloe, folded her arms, her glossy red nails digging into her sleeves. “Daniel should’ve married someone from our level. Not some quiet little office mouse who smiles and signs papers.”

That almost made me laugh.