“Then show some gratitude.”
“I have.”
Ethan gestured around the room.
“This house. Your car. Your insurance. Vanessa’s phone. Courtney’s tuition balance. Madison’s spending money. Every streaming service. Every grocery order. Every takeout meal. The beach trip you took in May. I have shown gratitude until gratitude became permission.”
Diane’s face drained slightly.
Ethan picked up the cards.
“That permission is gone.”
Vanessa stood.
“You can’t just cut us off.”
“I can.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“Work.”
Courtney scoffed.
“This is insane.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What’s insane is my wife believing she has to earn the right to be treated gently in a house with her name on the deed.”
Then Diane said something that changed the entire night.
“At least we were making sure she took care of herself.”
Ethan stopped.
Slowly turned.
“What does that mean?”
Diane blinked.
“Nothing.”
He stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
Madison looked toward Vanessa.
Vanessa looked at the floor.
Ethan noticed.
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“Vanessa.”
She said nothing.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“What happened?”
Diane stood quickly.
“This is going too far.”
“What happened?”
Courtney muttered, “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Ethan’s skin went cold.
“What wasn’t?”
Nobody answered.
Then Madison whispered, “The pills.”
The room disappeared around him.
“What pills?”
Diane snapped, “Madison.”
But Ethan was already moving.
He stood directly in front of his youngest sister.
“What pills?”
Madison began crying.
“Olivia’s.”
Ethan could hear his own breathing.
“What about Olivia’s pills?”
“They were on the kitchen counter.”
Diane cut in.
“Enough.”
Ethan raised one hand.
“Mom, if you speak before she finishes, you’re leaving this house tonight.”
Diane stared at him in disbelief.
Madison wiped her cheek.
“She had bottles. Vitamins and some prescription thing. Mom said she was being dramatic because pregnant women don’t need half the junk doctors give them.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
“Prescription thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened to it?”
Madison looked toward the kitchen.
“I think Mom threw it away.”
For one terrible second, Ethan stopped hearing.
There was no television.
No air-conditioning.
No traffic outside.
Just the distant pulse of blood inside his ears.
He turned toward Diane.
“You threw away Olivia’s medication?”
Diane’s face changed from defensive to irritated.
“It was unnecessary.”
“You threw away her medication.”
“She was relying on chemicals when what she needed was proper food and discipline.”
“What medication?”
Diane rolled her eyes.
“I don’t memorize labels.”
Ethan took one step closer.
“What. Medication.”
Vanessa answered.
“Something for blood pressure.”
Ethan’s vision narrowed.
Olivia’s blood pressure.
He remembered an appointment six weeks earlier.
Dr. Morris had mentioned Olivia’s readings were creeping upward.
Ethan had been in a client meeting.
Olivia had texted: Doctor gave me something precautionary. Nothing scary. Don’t worry.
He had called her.
She had laughed.
Told him everything was fine.
And he had believed her.
“Where is it?”
Diane crossed her arms.
“In the trash where it belongs.”
Ethan stared at his mother.
“When?”
“Maybe two weeks ago.”
His entire body went cold.
Two weeks.
Olivia had been dizzy.
Swollen.
Exhausted.
Two weeks.
He remembered asking whether she was taking everything the doctor gave her.
She had said yes.
Had she lied?
Or—
Ethan ran upstairs.
“Olivia!”
She startled awake when he entered.
“What happened?”
“Your medicine.”
Her face changed.
That was all he needed.
“Where is your blood pressure medication?”
Olivia looked toward the door.
Then down.
“Liv.”
“Your mom threw it away.”
He sat beside her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said it was making me weak.”
“Why didn’t you call the doctor?”
Olivia’s silence stretched.
Ethan looked closer.
“What?”
“She told me you agreed.”
The room tilted.
“What?”
“She said you didn’t want me taking it anymore.”
Ethan’s face went blank.
Olivia started crying.
“She said you thought I was being paranoid and that you were tired of me making the pregnancy complicated.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
“No.”
