“Really? Was forcing my pregnant wife to clean up after four adults also out of context?”
“She’s your wife,” Mom snapped. “She should help.”
I took a step forward.
“This apartment exists because of me.”
Nobody answered.
“The rent? Me.”
Silence.
“The groceries? Me.”
More silence.
“The internet, the phones, the prescriptions, the bills? Me.”
Mom looked away.
“And after everything I’ve done, you treated the woman carrying my child like a servant.”
Brittany tried to shrug.
“It was just dishes.”
I pointed toward the kitchen.
“Then go wash them yourself.”
She didn’t move.
Exactly.
I pulled out my phone and called my attorney friend, Marcus.
I put him on speaker.
“Marcus, I need paperwork drawn up tomorrow morning. I want legal documentation for harassment, theft, and removal of occupants from my residence.”
Mom jumped to her feet.
“You’re throwing your own mother out?”
“No.”
I stared directly at her.
“I’m removing people who endangered my wife and my son.”
Kayla started crying.
“Where are we supposed to go?”
I looked at her calmly.
“Get jobs.”
That hit harder than any scream.
Then Lily suddenly broke down.
And what she said next shattered whatever was left of the family.
“Mom took Emily’s hospital money.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
Lily burst into tears.
“The cash she saved for the delivery. Mom took it from her dresser.”
The room went silent.
I looked at my mother.
She couldn’t even meet my eyes.
I ran upstairs.
Emily was already crying.
That told me everything.
Eighteen thousand dollars.
Money she’d saved for diapers, medical bills, and emergencies.
Gone.
And my mother had convinced her not to tell me because she was afraid I’d stop loving her.
That was the moment something finally died inside me.
Not my love for my mother.
My trust.
The next morning there were no arguments.
