I bit back tears and silently started packing, enduring Brenda’s taunts. As I loaded my car, a sleek BMW pulled up, and out stepped Logan’s grandfather, Mr. Duncan. Known for his sharp mind and no-nonsense attitude, he had always been kind to me.
When he saw the scene, his face darkened.
“What’s going on here?!” he thundered.
Logan emerged, his confidence crumbling. “Grandpa, this isn’t a good time—”
“I don’t care what time it is!” Mr. Duncan interrupted. “Why is Natasha’s stuff on the lawn, and who is that… woman?”
Logan stammered, “We’re done. She doesn’t belong here anymore.”
Mr. Duncan’s glare could’ve cut through steel. “This house belongs to me. I let you stay here because you were building a family with Natasha. If that’s no longer the case, you’re the one who needs to leave.”
Logan’s jaw dropped. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Not only that,” Mr. Duncan said, “but you’re cut off. No money. No support. You’ve disgraced this family enough.”
Within the hour, Logan and Brenda were gone. Mr. Duncan turned to me, his expression softening.
“I came here today to offer help with IVF,” he said, his voice gentle. “But it seems I arrived just in time. You don’t deserve this. This house is yours. I’ll take care of everything.”
I couldn’t hold back my tears as I nodded.
A few days later, the paperwork was finalized, and Logan was officially cut off. Brenda, predictably, disappeared once the money ran out.
A week later, Logan showed up at the house, desperate. “I made a mistake,” he pleaded. “Please, Natasha, call Grandpa. He’ll listen to you.”
“No,” I said, standing firm. “You made your bed. Now lie in it.”
I slammed the door, ignoring his protests. For the first time in years, I felt free. Logan’s betrayal had shattered me, but it also gave me the strength to rebuild my life—this time, on my own terms.