The entire ballroom erupted instantly. Whispers crashed across the tables like breaking glass. Victor forced out a laugh far too loud to sound natural. “What?” I held the microphone carefully in both hands and looked directly at him. “The apartment belongs to me,” I said calmly. “I bought it before we got married. It’s protected under a premarital agreement. Every payment, every renovation, every tax record came from my accounts. You signed the acknowledgment yourself in 1999.” Something shifted in his face. Only slightly. But I saw it. So did…
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