She sipped her wine and forced a smile. “Well, I just thought… with all the help we gave Vanilla growing up, maybe it’d make more sense for the apartment to be *under his name alone*—just for family continuity.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “Excuse me?”
Vanilla blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I mean,” Gwen continued, voice silky, “Sophia’s not *technically* family yet. Not *legally.* No ring on her finger, right?”
The entire room froze. My cheeks burned. We’d been together for eight years—shared bills, birthdays, funerals. But I wasn’t “family”?
Vanilla looked stunned. “Mom… Sophia paid for most of this place. She worked two jobs. Without her, there *is* no apartment.”
Gwen tilted her head. “Still, what if things don’t work out?”
That was it.
I stood, walked to the hallway closet, and pulled out a folder. “Funny you ask, Gwen. Because I had a feeling.”
I handed her the papers.
Vanilla leaned over. “Wait… this says—Sophia owns *sixty-five percent*?”
I nodded calmly. “Surprise. I added extra from my inheritance. Quietly.”
Gwen’s face paled.
“And no, I won’t be signing *anything* over to anyone.”
**Moral?** Play stupid games, win shocking surprises. Never underestimate the woman you tried to write out.
