My stomach knotted. “You did this while I was gone?”

She waved dismissively. “It’s an upgrade. Contractors are pricey, though. We kept costs reasonable.”

Mason nodded eagerly. “It’s a big improvement. You’ll thank us.”

I stared at the locks. The division. The way my home now felt parceled. “How much did this cost?”

Linda produced an envelope like she’d rehearsed this moment. “A hundred thousand. You can write a check or transfer it. Mason said you’d handle it since it’s your property.”

A sharp laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Huh? Why would I pay you a hundred thousand?”

Linda’s smile wavered. “Because we enhanced your home. And because you’re joining this family.”

I blinked. “Joining? Linda… I’m not even married.”

She scoffed. “You’re practically married. Same thing.”

“No,” I said slowly, something clicking into place. “It’s not the same thing. And I’m definitely not paying for renovations I didn’t authorize.”

Her eyes narrowed before she lifted her chin like she held the final card. “You will pay,” she declared. “Because as Mason’s wife, you benefit from what we built.”

I stared at her. “As his wife?”

She paused. “Yes. As his wife.”

I whipped around to Mason so fast my neck protested. “Mason… what is she talking about?”

His expression stiffened for half a second before he forced a shrug. “It’s just how Mom talks.”

But Linda wasn’t watching me anymore—she was watching him, waiting for reinforcement.

My pulse slowed—not from calm, but from cold clarity. “Linda,” I said carefully, “why exactly do you believe I’m Mason’s wife?”

She frowned like I’d asked something ridiculous. “Because you got married last year. The courthouse. Mason said you did it quietly for tax purposes.”

The room felt unsteady.

I looked at Mason. He said nothing. He didn’t deny it. He just swallowed.

My voice thinned. “Mason… tell her the truth. Tell her we are not married.”

Linda’s smugness cracked into confusion. “Huh?”

I stepped closer, hands trembling. “We are not married,” I repeated clearly. “There was no courthouse wedding. There’s no marriage license. I never signed anything.”

Linda turned back to Mason, expecting correction.

He stayed silent.

And in that silence, the full truth surfaced: Linda had acted on a lie her son fed her—a lie involving my house, my money, and a future I never agreed to.

Her face drained of color.

Before she could even form her next question, a new sound came from behind the freshly built wall—soft footsteps… and the unmistakable click of a lock turning on the other side.

The lock clicked again, slow and intentional, like someone wanted acknowledgment.

I stared at the second door—the one that didn’t belong. “Who is on the other side?” I demanded.

Mason cleared his throat. “It’s… it’s no one.”

The lie landed too fast.

Linda’s eyes widened further. “Mason,” she whispered, “what is happening?”

I stepped forward and twisted the knob. Locked. Of course. In my own house.

“Open it,” I said, my voice razor sharp.

Mason hesitated. Linda looked faint but still tried to steady herself. “There’s no need for drama,” she murmured weakly. “We made improvements. It’s fine.”

I spun toward her. “You divided my home and installed locks while I was out of state. Then you demanded $100,000. That’s not an upgrade, Linda. That’s a takeover.”

Mason raised his hands. “Babe, calm down. It’s just a wall.”

“Just a wall?” I gestured to the locks. “This is an eviction strategy wrapped in drywall.”

Linda’s lips trembled. “Mason told me you were already married,” she said softly now. “He said it was for tax reasons… so it would be appropriate for me to help make the home more ‘family-friendly.’”

My chest tightened. “He told you that so you’d feel entitled.”

Mason flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”