Chapter 2 - The Morning After
I didn't sleep much that night, but I didn't shed a single tear, either.
When the sun came up, I sat at my kitchen island with a mug of black coffee, opening the texts one by one.
The timeline of the previous night's disaster was perfectly documented in my notifications.
At 8:05 PM, Dad had texted, "Sarah, the manager is threatening to call the police, please unlock the card."
At 8:15 PM, Chloe had texted, "You selfish bitch, you ruined Dad's entire night!"
At 8:30 PM, Aunt Susan had chimed in with the actual tea.
"Your dad's card declined, Chloe refused to pay a dime, and Uncle Mark had to cover the $2,100 bill to stop them from calling the cops."
I actually laughed out loud in the empty kitchen.
Uncle Mark was a retired accountant who counted every single penny.
If Mark had paid that bill, he would hound Dad and Chloe until the end of time to get his money back.
At 9:00 AM, the front door unlocked, and my husband, Tom, walked in dragging his suitcase.
He was supposed to be back from his business trip the previous afternoon, but a canceled flight had delayed him.
He took one look at my face and dropped his bags in the hallway.
"What happened?" he asked, walking straight over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
I handed him my phone and let him read the messages.
I watched his jaw clench, the muscles feathering near his temples as he scrolled through the vitriol.
When he read the part about what Chloe had said to our children, his face went completely pale with rage.
"She said that to Leo and Emma?" Tom whispered, his voice dangerously low.
"And my dad told us to leave," I confirmed, staring down at my coffee mug.
Tom didn't yell, but the absolute ice in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
"Get dressed," Tom said, his voice clipped and firm.
"Where are we going?" I asked, confused.
"We are going to take the kids to the park, and then we are going to change our locks," he replied.
He knew my father better than anyone, and he knew the ambush was coming.
May you like
The toxic machine of my family always required a scapegoat, and they were going to try and drag me back into that role.
But Tom was a fortress, and he was sealing the gates.
