Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Walked Into My Home Like She Owned It
“I’m the mother of the man you’re about to marry, and I’m not going to stand outside the door like some stranger.”
Bernice Gable said those words at exactly eight o’clock on Saturday morning.
Abigail Prescott was still holding her coffee when the front door swung open.
Bernice pushed the wooden bench beside the entrance aside with her hip and marched inside.
She didn't remove her shoes.
They were covered in mud.
Within seconds, dark footprints appeared across Abigail's cream-colored floor.
One footprint even contained a crushed worm.
Abigail stared at it.
Then she looked at Bernice.
“Good morning.”
Bernice dropped two oversized plaid bags onto the floor.
“My goodness, you could at least look happy to see me.”
“I am surprised to see you.”
“That's because you don't understand family.”
Bernice walked farther inside.
She had brought a cardboard box tied with rope and another bag that looked like it contained clothes.
Abigail frowned.
“Are you staying?”
“Of course I'm staying.”
“For how long?”
“Until the wedding.”
Abigail nearly dropped her coffee.
“The wedding is six weeks away.”
“Exactly.”
Bernice smiled.
“You'll need help.”
“I didn't know I needed help.”
“You will.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
“Where's the coffee?”
Abigail followed her.
“You're welcome to have coffee.”
“Good. Make me breakfast too.”
Bernice opened the refrigerator.
“Eggs. Sausage. Biscuits.”
She pointed toward the counter.
“And use the good coffee.”
Abigail stared.
Then Bernice added casually,
“Oh, and I need ten thousand dollars.”
Abigail blinked.
“I'm sorry?”
“You heard me.”
“Why do you need ten thousand dollars?”
“Wedding expenses.”
“You already have the wedding budget.”
Bernice waved her hand.
“That isn't enough.”
“The wedding is already costing nearly forty thousand dollars.”
“And?”
“And I'm not giving you another ten thousand.”
Bernice's expression hardened.
“You're going to be my daughter-in-law.”
“Yes.”
“So you should want to help me.”
“I don't understand why your expenses are suddenly my responsibility.”
Bernice crossed her arms.
“You're marrying my son.”
“And he's marrying me.”
“That means you become part of this family.”
Abigail smiled politely.
“Family doesn't mean handing someone ten thousand dollars whenever they demand it.”
Bernice looked around the apartment.
“You've become very comfortable.”
“I worked for it.”
“Yes.”
Bernice's eyes moved toward the expensive dining table.
“Clearly.”
Abigail noticed the accusation.
She had heard it before.
Bernice believed Abigail had too much.
Too much money.
Too nice a home.
Too successful a career.
Too much independence.
She had once told Logan,
“A woman shouldn't make a man feel unnecessary.”
Abigail had pretended not to hear.
But she remembered.
She also remembered that Logan had never defended her.
Instead, he always said,
“She's old-fashioned.”
Abigail took a mop from the closet.
She held it toward Bernice.
“Since you're staying, let's start with the floor.”
Bernice stared at the mop.
“What is this?”
“A mop.”
“I know what it is.”
“Good.”
“You want me to clean?”
“You walked in with muddy shoes.”
Bernice's face turned red.
“You're unbelievable.”
“You can also take your shoes off.”
Bernice threw the mop against the wall.
“Logan is going to hear about this!”
She pulled out her phone.
Abigail didn't stop her.
Bernice called.
“Logan!”
Her voice immediately became tearful.
“Your fiancée just humiliated me.”
Abigail walked into the kitchen.
She opened her laptop.
The apartment had four security cameras.
One at the front door.
One facing the hallway.
One covering the kitchen.
And one pointed toward the living room.
Abigail had installed them after someone broke into her storage unit the previous year.
She opened the footage.
Everything had been recorded.
Bernice's entrance.
The muddy shoes.
The demands.
The ten thousand dollars.
The mop.
The threat.
Abigail watched silently.
Forty minutes later, Logan arrived.
He opened the door.
Stopped.
Looked at the muddy floor.
Then at his mother.
Bernice immediately began crying.
“Your fiancée treated me like a servant.”
Logan looked at Abigail.
“Abby.”
She said nothing.
“Would it really have been so difficult to welcome my mother?”
Abigail turned the laptop toward him.
“Watch.”
The footage played.
Logan's expression changed.
His mother looked away.
But Abigail hadn't shown him the most important footage yet.
She clicked on another file.
The timestamp was from three nights earlier.
It showed Bernice standing outside Abigail's apartment.
With Logan.
They were talking.
Logan looked nervous.
Bernice handed him an envelope.
Then she pointed directly at Abigail's front door.
Logan said something.
Bernice answered.
Then Logan looked around before kissing her cheek.
Abigail paused the footage.
Logan went pale.
“What is this?”
Bernice stood up.
“Abigail, turn that off.”
Abigail looked at her.
“You told me this was your first time here.”
Bernice said nothing.
“You've been here before.”
Logan stared at his mother.
“Mom?”
Bernice's lips trembled.
“I was only trying to help you.”
Abigail clicked play again.
This time, the audio was clear.
Bernice's voice came through the speakers.
“Once she signs the marriage documents, everything changes.”
Logan whispered,
“Mom…”
Bernice continued.
“She won't be able to hide that property forever.”
Abigail's blood ran cold.
Property?
What exactly did Bernice know?
Then the recording revealed something even worse.
Bernice looked at Logan and said:
“You just need to get her to sign the papers before the wedding.”
Abigail stopped the video.
Silence filled the kitchen.
She looked at Logan.
“What papers?”
He didn't answer.
And that was when Abigail realized the woman demanding ten thousand dollars that morning had never come for breakfast.
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She had come to make sure Abigail signed something.
Something that could cost her everything.
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