They were trying to break her.
I looked at Emily.
“Do you have proof?”
She hesitated.
Then she unlocked her phone.
There were recordings.
Videos.
Messages.
Not because she wanted revenge.
Because she’d reached the point where she needed evidence just to convince herself she wasn’t losing her mind.
I pressed play.
My mother’s voice filled the room.
“When the baby gets here, Emily can either straighten up or leave. But the baby stays. He’s a Carter. Not hers.”
My hands started shaking.
Another recording.
Brittany laughed.
“Record her. Look at her washing dishes with that giant belly. She looks like a detergent commercial.”
Kayla laughed with her.
“Don’t tell Ethan. That idiot thinks his little princess is perfect.”
I felt sick.
For months I’d been working myself into the ground to support people who were destroying my marriage from inside my own home.
I kissed Emily’s forehead.
“Get some sleep.”
Her eyes widened.
“Ethan, please don’t do anything crazy.”
I stood.
“I’m not.”
I looked toward the living room.
“I’m going to do something much worse.”
I was going to make them face consequences.
When I walked back into the living room, nothing had changed.
The TV was still blaring.
The pizza boxes were still everywhere.
And my mother and sisters were still acting like they owned the place.
Mom spoke first.
“Is her little performance over? Because somebody still has laundry to do tomorrow.”
I walked straight to the television.
Pulled the plug.
And silence hit the room.
“What the hell?” Brittany snapped.
I held up Emily’s notebook.
“This is what the hell.”
Nobody spoke.
I pressed play on the first recording.
My mother’s voice echoed through the apartment.
“When the baby gets here, Emily can leave, but the baby stays.”
The room froze.
Brittany looked down.
Kayla swallowed hard.
Lily’s face drained of color.
Mom immediately switched tactics.
“That’s out of context.”
I laughed.
A cold laugh.
