Chapter 4

My father spun around, marched into the kitchen for a cleaver, and headed straight for the door.

My mother threw herself in front of him in a panic. "Old man, don't do anything crazy!"

My father refused to listen. He was determined to go out anyway.

He'd always been like this. When I was a kid and a classmate bullied me, he'd rather skip work than let anyone stop him from showing up at school to defend me.

"Woman, don't you dare hold me back. I'm going to ask that bastard just who he thinks he is, hurting my daughter!" my father thundered.

"Dad!" I called out.

My hand drifted to my belly without thought. "I'm pregnant."

…

I found out this past Wednesday.

My period had been late for two months straight, and I felt achy and tired all the time.

A more experienced coworker asked if I might be pregnant and suggested I take a test.

So this morning, after Marcus left the house, I went out and bought a pregnancy test.

"Two lines," I muttered.

I really was pregnant.

I covered my mouth and hid in the bathroom, crying for a full half hour.

After five years, I finally had a baby of my own.

I had gone to the grocery store in high spirits and booked a prenatal checkup for the next day. I'd planned to tell my husband the good news that night.

Instead, my money was gone. I couldn't even afford the ribs, let alone the checkup.

And Marcus had gone back on his word. He wanted me to wait a few more years.

…

Now, as I thought about everything that had happened, the last thread of attachment I'd been clinging to finally snapped.

I looked at my father's rigid back and said quietly, "Dad, I'm divorcing him. I'll raise the baby myself."

My mother stared at me in disbelief. With her old-fashioned way of thinking, a woman simply couldn't raise a child alone. It was too hard, too exhausting.

Even so, she didn't argue. She only asked me seriously, "Have you really thought this through?"

I nodded. "I have."

"No regrets?"

"No regrets."

My mother wiped her eyes, took hold of my father with one hand and me with the other, and said firmly, "If our girl's made up her mind, then I'm behind her. Old man, go make dinner for our daughter and our grandbaby!"

My father still had the cleaver in his hand. Without a word, he turned and went back into the kitchen.

Soon, the smell of dinner drifted across the whole yard.

I sat on a stool in the cool evening air and typed out a message to Marcus, one word at a time,

[I'm serious about the divorce. My parents support me. Let's go file the paperwork next week.]

I sent it.

No reply came.

I didn't care either way. I plugged in my phone and went to have dinner with my parents, happier than I'd been in a long time.

…

By the time I checked my phone again, two hours had passed.

Eight unread messages filled the chat.

Marcus had responded two hours ago.

Marcus: [What do you mean, divorce? I don't agree to that. Olivia, don't talk nonsense.]

Marcus: [Did you take the gold necklace? Ryan's still short on the down payment. Bring it to me right now. I swear this is the last time.]

Marcus: [Did you see my message? I'm not joking around. The dealership's waiting.]

An hour ago, he'd followed up.

Marcus: [Olivia, you're really taking this too far. Ryan's my brother, and you're his sister-in-law. Can't you be a little more generous?]

Marcus: [If you won't give it to me, I'll just find it myself. I'll buy you a new one once I get paid.]

Then, half an hour ago, his messages had turned frantic.

Marcus: [Where's your suitcase? Why is it gone?]

Marcus: [Where did you hide the necklace?]

Marcus: [Why did I find a pregnancy test in the trash?]

Marcus: [Olivia, are you keeping something from me?]

The messages stopped there.

I frowned. I was about to tell him to stop bothering me when someone suddenly knocked at the front gate.

My mother went to answer it.

Marcus stormed in with the chill of the night at his back, his unblinking gaze fixed on my belly.