Her words hi;t me like ice water. This wasn’t stress. This was a plan.

Days later, in the basement, I found a stack of utility bills – all in Everly’s name. At the bottom, a mail forwarding request redirecting our household mail to her.

“Martha,” I said grimly, showing her the papers, “she’s trying to establish legal residence.”

“She’s trying to take our house,” Martha whispered.

When confronted, Everly brushed it off with a laugh, claiming a “billing mix-up.” Her slick dismissal didn’t fool me.