Chapter 4
A week later, the moving trucks pulled up to the suburban house.
Lily skipped around the front yard, helping the movers put her stuffed animals into pink boxes, her bandage changed to a smaller one covered in unicorn stickers.
She was laughing.
It was a sound I’d almost forgotten.
I stood on the porch, watching her, when I heard the back door slam.
I turned.
Michael stumbled around the side of the house, drunk, his shirt unbuttoned, reeking of beer and regret.
He tripped over a garden hose, catching himself on the porch rail.
“You,” he slurred, pointing at me.
“You ruined my life.”
I stepped forward, putting myself between him and Lily.
“Go home, Michael,” I said, my voice calm.
“You’re drunk. You don’t want to do this in front of her.”
He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound.
“Home? I don’t have a home! You kicked me out! My mom’s in jail! I have no money, no job, nothing! All because of you and your stupid lies!”
Lily stopped laughing.
She ran over and hid behind my legs, peeking out at him.
“Daddy’s scary,” she whispered.
I stroked her hair, never taking my eyes off Michael.
“I didn’t ruin your life,” I said.
“You did. Every time you let your mom yell at Lily. Every time you called me a burden. Every time you chose them over us. You did this to yourself.”
He took a wobbly step closer.
“You were supposed to be mine,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Quiet. Pretty. Poor. I married you because I thought I could control you forever. I thought you’d never have the guts to stand up to me. I never guessed you were hiding a billion-dollar fortune behind that sweet little smile.”
My blood ran cold.
I’d known he didn’t love me.
But hearing him say it out loud, so raw, so honest?
It hurt more than I thought it would.
“You married me for control?” I said, my voice shaking.
“Of course I did,” he said, laughing again.
“Look at you. You had nothing. No family, no money, no one to help you. I was your ticket out of the trailer park. You should’ve been grateful. You should’ve let my mom do whatever she wanted. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
I stared at him.
The boy I’d fallen in love with in college, the one who’d brought me flowers and said he’d take care of me forever—he’d never existed.
He’d been a mask.
A lie.
“Get off my property,” I said, my voice steady now, all the hurt turning to steel.
“Or I’ll call the police. And this time, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and public intoxication. How do you think that’ll look in court when you’re trying to get custody of Lily?”
His face went white.
He took a step back, tripping over the porch step and landing hard on his butt in the grass.
He stared up at me, his eyes full of hate.
“This isn’t over,” he said, pushing himself up.
“I’ll get you back. I’ll take everything. You wait.”
He stumbled to his beat-up old car—my car, once, but I’d let him keep it, just to get rid of him faster—and peeled out of the driveway, tires screeching.
Lily tugged on my pants leg.
“Is Daddy gone?” she asked.
I knelt down, picking her up.
“He’s gone, baby,” I said.
“He won’t bother us again for a long time.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Good,” she said.
“I don’t like him when he yells.”
I carried her into the house, where the movers were packing the last of the boxes.
I looked around the kitchen.
The spot where Margaret had held Lily down.
The spot where Michael had threatened to take her away.
The spot where my old life had died.
I didn’t feel sad.
I felt free.
That night, we slept in the penthouse, Lily curled up next to me in the big king bed.
She woke up once, crying out, “No! Hot! Stop!”
I held her, rocking her, whispering soft words until she fell back asleep.
Her nightmares would fade.
Her scars would heal.
We would be okay.
I pulled out my phone, opening an email from Mr. Chen.
He’d found proof that Michael had been siphoning money from our joint bank account for the last two years—thousands of dollars, sent to a secret account I’d never known about.
I forwarded it to my legal team, adding one line.
Add embezzlement to the list of charges.
I hit send.
Michael wanted a war?
Fine.
May you like
I’d give him one.
And I always won.
