Chapter 4 - Drawing the Line
The next morning, I woke up with absolute clarity. I grabbed a yellow legal pad and wrote MY HOUSE in bold letters across the top.
Then, I began taking my life back, one shelf at a time. I boxed up Sloan’s overflowing belongings from the linen closet, cleared her expensive products out of the hall bathroom, stripped her decorative shoes from the guest room, and designated precisely one refrigerator shelf and one kitchen cabinet for their food.
When Sloan came downstairs wearing one of my silk robes, expecting her usual morning domain, she looked at me and told me to “act like family”.
I looked straight at the robe and said, “Take that off.”
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She froze, staring at me as though I had physically slapped her. For once in my life, I offered no explanations, no softening apologies. I immediately installed heavy-duty locks on my bedroom door and my private office, cut off all grocery purchases for three adults, and left a written notice on the counter reminding them that their stay had always been temporary.
For four agonizing days, the house vibrated with raw resentment. Cabinets slammed off their hinges. Heavy footsteps pounded angrily up and down the stairs. Harrison tried repeatedly to corner me and reopen the handbag argument, but every single time, I met his complaints with the exact same unyielding answer: “No.”
