“I can easily throw him out,” Abigail replied firmly. “And I can also cancel this wedding right now.”
Abigail grabbed her designer handbag and began walking steadily toward the front door. Before stepping outside into the hallway, she turned around to face Logan one last time.
“When I return home, I expect this apartment to be spotless and completely empty,” Abigail said clearly. “If either of you is still here when I get back, I will immediately call building security and the police.”
The heavy front door clicked shut behind her.
Bernice turned to her son, expecting him to assert himself, slam his fist on the counter, and chase after Abigail to demand respect.
Instead, Logan silently reached down and picked up the mop from the floor.
Meanwhile, inside the elevator, Abigail’s smartphone buzzed with a sudden motion alert from her indoor camera app. She tapped the notification and listened carefully to the live audio, hearing Bernice utter words that proved their grand scheme had been set in motion long before that fateful morning.
PART 3
“I told you from the very beginning that we should have forced her to sign a prenuptial agreement,” Bernice grumbled quietly, believing Abigail was completely out of earshot. “If you had just insisted on putting this place under both your names from the start, we would not be suffering through this pathetic embarrassment right now.”
Logan stopped scrubbing the floor and set the mop aside.
“Mom, please just stop talking,” Logan said quietly.
“I did everything strictly for your own benefit,” Bernice continued relentlessly. “That woman possesses immense wealth, powerful industry connections, and an apartment that is almost entirely paid off, so you cannot keep relying on small, unstable agency projects when you need to secure your financial future.”
Standing inside the quiet elevator, Abigail felt a cold, dull sensation settle deep within her chest.
For months, she had consistently defended Logan whenever her closest friends voiced their doubts about him. When they pointed out that he contributed virtually nothing to their living expenses, she had insisted that every modern couple maintained their own unique arrangements. When her sister asked why he never paid his fair share of the mortgage, Abigail had argued that true love could not be measured on a financial spreadsheet.
Now, she was forced to listen to Bernice discuss her life as if it were nothing more than a strategic business investment.
“I genuinely care about her,” Logan mumbled softly.
“Of course you do, but loving someone does not mean you cannot be smart about your future,” Bernice countered sharp-tongued. “A thirty-five-year-old woman with no children who is completely obsessed with her corporate career was never going to easily find another suitable man willing to marry her, which made you her best option, so you just had to endure her temper for a bit until you could take control of the major decisions.”
Those cruel words cut far deeper than the muddy tracks or the rude demands. Bernice had not come merely to establish her domestic authority, but rather because she was convinced that Abigail was terrified of ending up alone, believing that fear would force her to tolerate any level of disrespect.
“Do not ever talk about her like that again,” Logan said, though his quiet voice lacked any real conviction.
“Three months ago, you were the one who said it would be convenient to leave your job and manage her finances after the wedding,” Bernice reminded him pointedly.
“I suggested that we could work together on her digital platform,” Logan argued defensively.
“You explicitly stated that living on half of her generous salary would allow us all to live comfortably,” Bernice fired back without hesitation.
A heavy silence fell over the room through the audio feed.
Abigail vividly recalled that specific conversation from months ago. Logan had proposed resigning from his agency to help manage her digital platform, but she had gently declined his offer due to his complete lack of editorial or financial experience. He had pouted for two full days before dropping the subject entirely.
He clearly had never truly dropped it.
“I have already left my rural house in the care of my neighbor for three whole months,” Bernice pressed on stubbornly. “You are going to tell her to calm down and demand an apology, because women always cave in when they realize they might lose their man.”
“No, she will not cave in,” Logan replied weakly.
For the very first time, Logan seemed to fully grasp the utter catastrophic scale of his mistakes.
Abigail watched through her phone screen as he collapsed onto the entryway floor, burying his face in his hands.
“She is not going to beg me for anything,” Logan said solemnly. “She is going to revoke my access code, pack all my clothes into cardboard boxes, and move on with her life without looking back.”
“Then she never truly loved you in the first place,” Bernice asserted callously.
“No, it is because you walked in here to humiliate her, and I stood by ready to assist you,” Logan confessed quietly.
Abigail tapped her screen and muted the live audio stream. She did not mute it because she had forgiven him, but simply because she had heard more than enough painful truth for one day.
The man she had fallen for could certainly be sweet and attentive at times. He brought her warm soup whenever she felt sick and always managed to make her laugh after exhausting work shifts. Yet, he had also allowed his manipulative mother to believe she could move into her private home without permission, discussed her property as shared collateral, and rushed to criticize her the moment his mother called to complain.
The primary issue was no longer just Bernice.
The core problem was Logan himself.
Twenty-five minutes later, Abigail received a text message from him.
“Please forgive me. I am currently cleaning the floor, and my mother already has her bus ticket to head back home. I desperately need to talk to you.”
She did not send a reply.
Abigail returned to her building accompanied by the head property manager and two uniform security guards. She had no desire to create a chaotic public scene, but she was equally determined not to enter her apartment alone.
The entryway floor was nearly spotless when she stepped inside. Logan remained on his knees near the closet, scrubbing away at a stubborn stain. Bernice was hunched over her canvas bag, holding a printed greyhound ticket for a bus departing from the central station in four hours.
Upon spotting Abigail, Logan stood up immediately.
“The floor is completely clean now,” Logan said softly. “There was really no need to make such a grand scene out of this.”
Abigail silently pointed to a faint dark streak left near the hallway wall.
“You missed that spot over there,” Abigail noted coldly.
Logan silently grabbed the mop without offering any further argument.
Bernice pressed her thin lips together tightly.
“I certainly made a few mistakes today, but a proper daughter-in-law should always welcome her partner’s mother with a hot meal and proper respect,” Bernice insisted haughtily.
“Real respect is not about letting someone pollute your living space and order you around in your own home,” Abigail responded directly.
“I am an elder person,” Bernice argued back.
“Which is precisely why I expected far better manners from you,” Abigail countered without flinching.
Bernice turned to her son in outrage.
“Are you honestly going to stand there and let her speak to me like that?” Bernice demanded.
Logan kept his head lowered and silently continued mopping the floor.
Abigail inspected the hallway rug and noticed a small gray stain near the edge.
“A professional rug cleaning service costs one hundred and fifty dollars,” Abigail stated firmly. “That exact amount will be deducted from what you currently owe me for this month’s expenses.”
Logan froze in his tracks.
“What money are you referring to?” Logan asked awkwardly.
“Your agreed share of the utility bills, groceries, and building maintenance fees,” Abigail clarified clearly. “I have been covering your full financial burden for the last four months because you kept promising that your next big project would pay out.”
“How utterly humiliating to charge your future husband for basic living costs!” Bernice interjected loudly.
“Humiliation is living off someone else’s hard work while secretly scheming to take control of what they built,” Abigail delivered bluntly.
Bernice’s face paled as all her defensive posture crumbled away.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Bernice stuttered nervously.
Abigail held up her smartphone displaying the security application interface.
“The security system records full audio,” Abigail revealed calm and collected. “I heard every single word you said in this hallway.”
Logan closed his eyes in pure defeat, while Bernice instinctively took a step backward.
“That is completely illegal,” Bernice claimed frantically. “You cannot just spy on private individuals like that.”
“I do not need to present any audio recordings to a judge to make a personal decision regarding my own life,” Abigail replied smoothly.
Abigail picked up a clean cardboard box and began packing Logan’s scattered personal belongings from the living room, including his phone chargers, wireless headphones, leather notebook, and two casual shirts.
“What are you doing right now?” Logan asked in a broken voice.
“I am putting an end to this relationship, which is what I should have done the moment I realized you promised my home away without my knowledge,” Abigail answered plainly.
