“Mom, what are you doing?”
Margaret looked down. “Vivian wanted roast beef. She also asked me to change the sheets, wash Ryan’s trousers, and iron his shirts.”
I reached for Emma, but my mother flinched.
That was when I saw the bruise on her cheek.
More marks covered her wrist and forearm.
“Who did this to you?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Margaret pulled down her sleeve. “I fell.”
But she would not meet my eyes.
From the living room, Vivian yelled, “Tell her not to burn the meat again!”
Ryan laughed. “And she still hasn’t finished my laundry.”
Something inside me went cold.
For seven years, I had paid the mortgage, bought the cars, funded vacations, and covered Vivian’s medical bills. Ryan lived like a wealthy man because I allowed him to.
And while I was away, they had humiliated the woman who sold her land to put me through college.
I picked up my mother’s suitcase, lifted Oliver into my arms, and took Emma from her.
“We’re leaving.”
Vivian stormed in. “She isn’t finished.”
Ryan blocked the door. “Apologize to my mother and get back in that kitchen.”
I opened the home-control app.
Electricity: disabled.
Water supply: locked.
Cards: revoked.
The television died. The lights went out. Ryan’s phone buzzed with cancellation alerts.
“What did you do?” he shouted.
“I gave you back the life you can afford.”
Then I walked out with my mother and children, crossed the street, and stopped before the largest mansion in the neighborhood.
I pressed my thumb to the scanner.
The gates opened.
Ryan ran after us barefoot. “How do you have access to that house?”
I turned as the gates closed between us.
“Because I bought it three years ago. It’s fully paid off. And your name isn’t on one document.”
