But this time was different.
My thumb moved toward his contact.
Then I stopped.
I wasn’t going to ask him for an explanation.
I opened my closing documents instead.
There it was.
Sole owner.
My name.
Nobody else’s.
Then I called the local police department.
“My ex-husband and his wife are moving furniture into a house that belongs solely to me,” I told the dispatcher.
“I’m four hours away in Kentucky, and neither of them has permission to be there.”
The dispatcher asked several questions.
Did Mark live there?
No.
Had he ever lived there?
No.
Was I the sole legal owner?
Yes.
Had I given either of them permission to enter?
Absolutely not.
Then she asked the question that changed everything.
“Do you know how your ex-husband gained access?”
I looked at the frozen image of Mark’s finger hovering over my keypad.
“No,” I said.
