My Fiance Chose His Ex 18 Times

"Are you going to stare at the dotted line all day, or are you going to sign it?" Theo leaned across the polished mahogany desk, tapping the thick stack of papers with his knuckles.

The silver pen felt heavy in my fingers. The tip hovered a fraction of an inch above the thick white parchment.

"I'm reading the clauses," I said, scanning the dense legal jargon.

"It's a standard transfer of deed. The seller just wants the cash. You want the ruin." He tilted his head, watching my face. "Unless you're waiting for Ben to walk through that door and tell you it's a bad idea."

My grip on the pen tightened. "Ben doesn't get a vote anymore."

"Then prove it." Theo crossed his arms. "Because right now, you look exactly like the girl who waited six years for a ring. Hesitant. Unsure. Hoping someone else makes the final call."

I glared at him. "I am not waiting for anyone."

"Then why is the pen floating?"

I slammed the nib onto the paper and dragged the ink across the line. Hannah Collins.

I flipped to the next page. Signed again. Initialed the bottom corner.

"You realize there is no backing out after this page," Theo warned, his tone losing its mocking edge for a split second. "The seller assumes zero liability for the water damage. If the floor collapses tomorrow, you own the rubble."

"I'll buy a shovel." I flipped to the final page and slashed my signature across the bottom.

I pushed the stack of contracts across the desk.

Theo picked them up, aligning the edges with a sharp tap against the wood. "Bold. I didn't think you actually had it in you."

"You don't know me, Theo."

"I know you spent half a decade funding Ben's savior complex. Buying this place is the first selfish thing I've ever seen you do." He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Let's go pay the piper."

"I need a cashier's check for thirty thousand dollars," I told the teller, a middle-aged woman with thick glasses. "Made out to the Escrow Company."

She typed furiously on her keyboard. "Drawing from the individual checking account?"

"Yes."

"And I see a request here to close the joint savings account." She peered at her monitor, frowning. "Are you sure? It requires both parties to authorize if there's a balance, but since it's currently at zero..."

"Close it," I said.

"Usually, couples like to keep it open in case of delayed deposits. Or tax refunds."

"There won't be any deposits. Ever."

The teller blinked, taken aback by my tone. "I just have to warn you, reopening a joint account later requires a new application and another credit check."

"I don't plan on reopening it."

"Alright. I'll need to print a closure certificate for your records."

"Print it."

The machine whirred, spitting out a crisp, green-bordered check followed by a single sheet of white paper.

I picked up the document.

Account Status: Closed. Final Balance: $0.00.

Six years of skipping vacations, wearing cheap boots, and packing sandwiches, reduced to a zero-balance receipt. The phantom weight of Ben's constant financial monitoring lifted off my chest. I handed the cashier's check to Theo, who stood beside me, leaning casually against the velvet rope stanchion.

"Paid in full," I told him.

Theo inspected the check, holding it up to the light. "Congratulations. You just bought yourself a disaster."

"I bought myself out."

"Same thing." He folded the check into his suit pocket. "Let's go get your prize."

Theo reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a heavy, tarnished brass key.

He didn't hand it to me immediately. He held it up, the jagged metal catching the dull afternoon light.

"You know what this is?" he asked.

"The key to a moldy box."

"It's leverage." He dropped the key into my open palm.

The cold metal bit into my skin.

"From today on, no one behind this door can tell you to leave," Theo said, his voice dropping low enough to compete with the passing traffic. "No one can kick you out because their car broke down. No one can drain your funds for someone else's rent. You own the walls. You own the floorboards."

I curled my fingers around the jagged edges. The brass was freezing, solid, undeniable.

"Thank you, Theo."

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to tear out the kitchen." He turned toward the street, raising a hand to hail a passing cab. "The demolition crew I recommended will text you tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

"I won't."

He opened the yellow door of the taxi, pausing before sliding into the backseat. "And Hannah?"

"What?"

"Change your locks anyway. Ben has a habit of showing up where he isn't wanted."

"He doesn't know where this place is."

"He'll find out." Theo stared at me from the shadows of the backseat. "Men like Ben don't just let their safety nets walk away. He's going to come looking for you."

The door slammed shut. I watched the cab merge into the busy traffic until it disappeared around the corner.

I climbed the four flights of stairs, my boots thudding against the worn wooden treads. I slid the brass key into the deadbolt of unit 4B. The lock was stiff, requiring a hard twist before the mechanism finally yielded with a loud clack.

I pushed the door open.

The apartment was dead silent. The musty smell of peeling wallpaper and damp wood greeted me. I stepped into the empty living room, my footsteps echoing off the bare walls.

Outside, the wind rattled the loose windowpanes.

I stood in the center of the debris, staring at the ruined kitchen. The silence was absolute. No arguments about plumbing emergencies. No faint scent of vanilla and jasmine perfume. Just the hollow sound of the wind pushing against the glass.

For the first time in six years, I didn't have to check my phone to see if my fiancé was actually coming home. I didn't have to wonder if he was fixing Olivia's sink or paying Olivia's rent.

I walked over to the peeling wall and pressed my palm against the dry, cracking paint. Mine. Every ruined inch of it.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out, expecting a text from the demolition crew.

The screen lit up with a name.

Eleanor. Ben's mother.

My thumb hovered over the red decline button. Eleanor never called me during work hours unless someone was in the hospital.

I swiped the green icon and brought the speaker to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hannah Collins, what on earth is going through your head?" Eleanor's voice pierced the quiet room, sharp and vibrating with anger.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb with me." She practically shouted into the receiver. "Ben just called me in a total panic. Why did you cancel the down payment on the house?!"