Chapter 2

"Hello, security? There's someone drunk and causing trouble outside my door. Can you please come and get him out of here?" I said.

I was feeling annoyed as I pulled out my phone and called the property manager.

This place was the only thing my mom left me. The property management here was pretty reliable, so they should be here soon.

After I called, the property manager assured me they'd send someone over right away.

After hanging up, I reached out to close the door, leaving Neville outside to throw his drunken tantrum. I wasn't going to pay him any more attention.

Back then, whenever he got drunk and snuggled up to me, I'd always soften and help him inside.

I'd patiently make him some sober-up soup, coax him to drink it bit by bit, bathe him, and change him into clean pajamas. But I would not do those things anymore.

Back then, he was my husband, my first love, and the man I loved. Being good to him came naturally.

Now, he was my ex-husband. All that was left between us was hatred. I had no obligation and no reason to take care of him when he was drunk.

He pleaded, "No, you can't do this to me. You could never stand to see me hurting before.

"Polly, my head is spinning. I feel so awful. Can you hold me? Just once, please?"

As I tried to close the door, he squeezed through the gap and reached out, trying to hug me.

"Get out, or I'll call the cops," I snapped, grabbing the taser from the cabinet.

My stepmother, Rhea Dittman, had given it to me when she heard I was coming back.

She told me if Neville ever tried to bother me again, I should zap him with it. If I killed him, she would take the blame for me.

Rhea loathed Neville.

His report back then didn't only cost my dad his job, but it also destroyed the livelihoods of fifty thousand workers who depended on Doyle Group's paychecks to feed their families.

Rhea had finally married into money, but she barely got to enjoy a couple of good years before she lost everything along with the rest. She was another casualty.

Neville said, "Polly, don't get worked up. I won't touch you.

"Do you want to see our daughter? I can take you to see her anytime. Her name is Eloise..."

When he saw me raise the taser, his face twisted with reluctance, and he finally froze in place.

He sat down on the sofa across from me, staring at me with an obsessive look, clearly trying to use our daughter to break the ice between us.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

My heart softened at the thought of that little baby, whom I carried for nine months and struggled to bring into the world.

If I hadn't been forced to leave, I would have taken her with me.

Neville said, "She's not doing well. Ever since my mom secretly took her out and left her in a trash bin, she's become really timid.

"She can't sleep without someone nearby at night.

"The doctor says she needs her mother. If you promise not to marry anyone else, I'll let you visit her..."

He knew he was being shameless, but this child was the only bargaining chip he had left.

I really wanted to see her and have visitation rights. But I wondered if I should give up on marriage for my daughter's sake.

I didn't know if this was the right thing to do.

I wasn't sure, so I told him, "Give me three days to think it over."

Neville didn't push me any further. He could see how upset I was, and how much I wanted him to stay away.

In the end, he left my apartment, looking defeated and worn out. As he walked away, he kept glancing back at me, his gaze greedy and unwilling to let go.

He said, "Think about it. You'll always be her mom. You might not love me anymore, but you can't stop loving her."

The property manager, who'd been waiting outside, heard this and politely ushered him away. "Mr. Knowles, take your time.

"You've waited four years already. There's no need to rush. Don't scare her."