Chapter 2

The cops weren't even gone thirty minutes before my doorbell started going nuts. Someone was mashing the button. It was a long, furious buzz that sounded more like an alarm.

I looked through the peephole. It was the jackpot. Michael's mother, Paula Clark, was standing there, her face twisted with rage. His sister Sophie Clark was right behind her, arms crossed, looking bored as hell.

Great. The whole damn squad was here.

I unlocked the door. Paula blew past me like a linebacker, not even waiting for an invitation. The second she was inside, she started her usual psycho act: a screaming, crying drama-fest.

"Oh my God, what did I do to deserve this!" she wailed, throwing her hands up. "How could Michael marry you, a cold-hearted bitch?

"My husband is dying in a hospital bed, and you're here pulling this shit, Ivy? Are you trying to destroy us all, bitch? Is that what you want?"

She flapped her arms like a maniac and lunged at me, yelling my name.

I was expecting it. I just stepped to the side, and she flew right past me, almost face-planting on the floor.

Sophie strolled in without even glancing at her mom. She just stood there with her arms crossed, looking me up and down, and rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't fall out.

"Well, Ivy, you're something else," she sneered. "All Michael wanted was for you to pitch in to help. You are family, for crying out loud. Did you have to call 911 over that? You're going to embarrass the whole Clark family.

"And anyway, that stuff you owned before the wedding? It's Michael's, too. You're married. You don't get to split things. It's not like you're just roommates."

"You mean, my pre-marital property is Michael's?" I said. My voice was dead flat.

I stared at their greedy, ugly faces. It instantly brought back the memory of last year. My dad had a heart attack and needed an emergency bypass. I was 18,000 dollars short.

I was desperate. I had to swallow every last shred of my pride and go to them. I begged them. I just asked for a loan.

I asked Michael. He just said, "Sorry, I just paid my credit card bill. I'm tapped out."

When I turned to Paula, she was sitting there, munching on snacks and watching TV. She didn't even turn her head. "Your dad, your problem," she said, her voice cold. "That's a Lynch emergency. Not a Clark one."

In the end, I maxed out all my credit cards. I still had to borrow the rest from my best friend, Olivia Sullivan. That was the only way I could scrape together the cash to save my dad.

And now, they were the ones in a jam. But they weren't begging. They were waltzing in here and demanding I sell my house and my car, like I owed it to them.

I just stood there, letting the silence hang. Paula must have taken my silence as weakness, because she decided to double down.

She threw herself onto the cold floor and started screaming and wailing, beating her fists on the ground like a two-year-old having a tantrum.

"I don't care!" she shrieked. "You get us that money right now, or you get the hell out of this house. My son should have never married a heartless, ungrateful bitch like you."

I glanced at Michael. He was just a lump in the corner of the sofa. He didn't make a sound, just let his mother and sister rip into me like a pair of attack dogs.

It was obvious. This was their whole game plan: Paula brings the crazy, Sophie brings the snark, and Michael just plays the spineless victim.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the hot wave of disgust and hate rising in my throat.

I didn't bother trying to reason with Sophie. I certainly wasn't going to help Paula off the floor.

Instead, I just pulled out my phone. Right in front of them, I tapped the voice memo app and hit the button.

The little red digital timer started ticking.

I aimed the bottom of the phone right at Paula.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Could you repeat the part about me being a 'heartless, ungrateful bitch'?"

I then turned the phone toward Sophie. "And Sophie, I'd love for you to repeat that bit about my pre-marital assets being Michael's. My best friend, Olivia Sullivan, is a divorce attorney. I bet she'd get a huge kick out of your new legal theories."

Paula's screaming snapped off like a light switch.

She just gawked at the phone, her mouth hanging open, streaky, fake tears still on her face.

Sophie freaked out. "You..." she sputtered, pointing a shaking finger at me. "You're recording us? You're fucking insane, Ivy! Who does that?"

I looked at her and couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped.

It was a quiet laugh, but it was ice.

"I do," I said, my voice flat. "When I'm living with a family of sharks, I have to. If I didn't watch my back every second, you'd eat me alive."

That shut them all up. The three of them just stared at me.

The only noise in the room was Paula sucking wind, trying to catch her breath.

I hit the stop button and slid my phone back into my pocket. I let my eyes drag over every one of them, landing hard on Michael's pale, useless face.

I said, "I'm going to say this one last time.

"The money? You're getting nothing.

"The house, the car? You don't lay a goddamn finger on them.

"You think I'm kidding? Try me."

I didn't wait for them to sputter. I turned, walked into the bedroom, and yanked my largest suitcase out of the closet. I started throwing my clothes in.

I was so done. I wasn't spending one more second in this house.