Jack was next to me, snoring like he had a clean conscience. Like he hadn’t just let his parents waltz into my house and claim it as theirs.
Like I was nothing. Like I was just the bank account.
And for what?
So Jack could sit on the couch all day, waiting for me to come home and cook? So his mother could treat me like a guest in my own home?
No. I wasn’t going to let them take this from me. I had worked too hard.
I turned my head and looked at Jack. He was dead asleep, completely unaware that everything was about to change.
I smiled. Tomorrow, they would all learn.
I woke up early the next morning, slipped out of bed without waking Jack, and made a call.
“Hi, I need my locks changed,” I told the locksmith. “Today.”
“Sure. What’s the address?”
“Good morning, this is Carter & Lane Law Firm. How can we help you?”
“Hi, I need to file for divorce.”
By noon, the locksmith had finished. The house was officially mine again.
Jack was still asleep when I packed his things. He only woke up when I started dragging his gaming chair to the garage.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Packing,” I said, shoving his box of tangled controllers into the pile.
“For what?”
He yawned and scratched his stomach. “Did Mom call? She said they’d be here with their bags today.”
I smiled. “Oh, I know.”
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