Chapter 8 - The Return to the Lion’s Den
Discharge day arrived, and the reality of my situation hit me hard.
With the marital home locked up in legal disputes, I had nowhere to go.
I couldn't afford a hotel with the forty-two dollars Marcus had left in my account.
My attorney, Sarah, insisted I stay at her guest house until the temporary support order was finalized.
As we pulled up to the marital home to grab some essential baby clothes, I saw Marcus's car in the driveway.
“Wait in the car, I’ll call the police if he tries anything,” Sarah warned, keeping the engine running.
I unlocked the front door, the familiar scent of my own home feeling alien and hostile.
The house had been completely ransacked.
My personal belongings were thrown into garbage bags in the hallway.
Marcus emerged from the kitchen, holding a glass of scotch, looking dangerously drunk.
“Look who decided to show up,” he slurred, stepping into my path.
“Move, Marcus. I am just here for Leo’s clothes,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
He laughed, a cruel, ugly sound that echoed through the empty foyer.
“You think you won because you pushed out a kid in a courtroom?” he mocked, leaning closer.
The stench of alcohol on his breath made my stomach churn.
“I own the judge, I own the lawyers, you will end up on the streets,” he boasted loudly.
I pulled out my phone, subtly hitting record on the voice memo app hidden in my pocket.
“So you admit you stole my money to leave me destitute?” I provoked him gently.
“I didn't steal it, I took what was mine, and I'll take the kid too just to watch you suffer,” he admitted proudly.
I stopped recording, slipping the phone back into my pocket with a silent prayer of thanks.
May you like
“We’ll see about that,” I replied, grabbing the diaper bag and walking right past him.
He didn't try to stop me; his arrogance had already dug his grave.
