Chapter 2
The cops led Margaret out, her cuffs clinking, her screams echoing down the street.
“You’ll regret this! You gold-digging bitch!” she yelled, twisting to glare at me over her shoulder.
I didn’t flinch.
I just held Lily tighter.
Michael stood in the middle of the kitchen, his work files scattered at his feet, his face still white as paper.
Two paramedics pushed past him, their kit in hand.
“Ma’am?” one said, gentle. “We need to look at your daughter’s hand.”
I sank onto a chair, letting them kneel in front of me.
Lily whimpered when they touched her wrist, but she didn’t pull away.
She just buried her face deeper into my neck.
“Second-degree burns,” the paramedic said, wrapping her hand in a soft sterile bandage.
“We need to take her to the ER to make sure there’s no deeper damage, get her started on antibiotics and pain meds.”
I nodded, kissing the top of her head.
Michael took a step toward us, his hand outstretched.
“Lily, baby—”
Lily flinched so hard she almost fell off my lap.
“NO!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Don’t touch me! Go away!”
Michael froze.
His hand hung in the air for a second, then fell to his side.
He turned to me, his eyes suddenly wet.
“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I swear, I didn’t know she was capable of that. She manipulated me. She always does.”
I stared at him.
I thought of all the times I’d come home to Lily crying, her clothes torn, her cheeks red.
All the times Margaret had said, “She fell. She’s clumsy.”
All the times Michael had nodded and said, “Mom knows best. You’re too soft on her.”
“You knew,” I said, my voice cold. “You just didn’t care enough to look.”
Mr. Chen stepped forward, holding a thick manila envelope.
“Michael,” he said, “this is a formal eviction notice. You have forty-eight hours to remove all your personal belongings from this property. The house, the cars in the garage, the bank accounts used to pay the bills—all are in Mrs. Hale’s sole name. You have no legal claim to any of it.”
Michael stared at the envelope like it was a snake.
“Forty-eight hours?” he said, his voice rising. “Where am I supposed to go? My mom’s in jail! I have no money!”
“Not my problem,” I said.
I stood, lifting Lily into my arms.
She was light, too light, her body still trembling.
“You can stay at a motel. Call your friends. Figure it out. But if you’re still here when the moving trucks come day after tomorrow, the police will escort you out.”
I walked toward the front door, Mr. Chen right behind me.
Michael called after me, his voice desperate now.
“Wait! We can fix this! We can go to counseling! For Lily’s sake—”
I stopped, but I didn’t turn around.
“For Lily’s sake,” I said, “you will never be alone with her again. Not ever.”
I stepped outside.
The strawberry shortcake I’d dropped was still on the porch, its box crushed, pink cream oozing out onto the concrete.
I stared at it for a second.
It felt like a symbol.
The life I’d thought I had.
Crushed.
Ruined.
But Lily was alive.
She was in my arms.
That was all that mattered.
The paramedics helped me into their ambulance.
Lily fell asleep on the ride to the hospital, her head on my shoulder, her bandaged hand curled into a fist.
I stroked her hair, over and over.
I thought of the way Michael had looked at me when he saw my net worth.
Not with love.
Not with regret.
With greed.
With fear.
He’d never loved me.
He’d loved the idea of me—quiet, obedient, poor, easy to control.
And now that the mask was off, he’d do anything to get his hands on my money.
I pulled out my phone and sent a quick email to my head of security.
I want 24/7 protection on me and Lily, I wrote.
No one gets within ten feet of us without my approval. Especially not Michael or Margaret.
I hit send.
Outside, the Dallas lights blurred past.
Lily stirred, mumbled something in her sleep, and snuggled closer.
I kissed her forehead.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whispered.
“No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”
I meant it.
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If I had to burn every bridge, spend every dollar, fight every battle, I would.
They’d messed with the wrong mom.
