“Not with my permission.”
The officer put me on speaker.
Mark immediately said,
“Clare, stop turning this into something it isn’t.”
I looked at the video feed.
There was a moving truck in my driveway.
“You are unloading bedroom furniture into my house, Mark. I know exactly what this is.”
“We just need somewhere temporary.”
“We never discussed that.”
Vanessa suddenly interrupted.
“Mark, you told me she agreed!”
He snapped at her.
“She did.”
“No,” I said. “I did not.”
The police couldn’t instantly sort out every legal claim while standing in the driveway.
Mark had used a working entry code and was claiming some imaginary verbal agreement.
But one thing was clear.
I was the owner.
I told the police he had no permission to remain.
The move stopped.
Mark tried to call it a private family dispute.
The officer looked at him.
“She is your ex-wife.”
