Chapter 1

My movements were slow and clumsy in those final weeks of pregnancy, but despite my awkwardness, I had filled the entire house with baby supplies. Each item was carefully chosen, every purchase a small act of love for the baby.

But that day, when I came home, the living room and second bedroom were empty. Everything was gone.

My husband, Benjamin Harris, sat on the sofa, his tone casual. "My sister had a baby and needed the supplies. We're family. You haven't given birth yet, so we can buy more."

For nine months, I had been going to prenatal check-ups and managing the household alone, while he never lifted a finger. Now, without a word, he had given away what I cherished most. I didn't argue or cry; I simply looked at him coldly.

Turning around, I called my parents and deliberately raised my voice. "No need to come pick me up, call a moving company to take all my belongings out of this house."

The doorbell rang quickly, and the movers filed in. The cup in Benjamin's hand shattered on the floor with a crash, his face turning pale. He opened his mouth but didn't dare speak. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of my retaliation.

*****

I stared at the nursery, now half-empty, and said nothing. The big box that used to sit in the corner was gone. Inside were six cans of formula I'd had a friend bring all the way from Hinston.

And the crib I'd painstakingly assembled myself, following a video step by step, made of real wood, not a hint of that factory smell. That was gone, too.

The air was thick with dust, stirred up as everything was dragged away. Benjamin stood in the doorway and handed me a cup of water.

"Margaret, you must be tired from standing. Come sit and have some water," he said gently, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I didn't take it. My gaze went past him to the couch in the living room, where a few bags were still left behind. Inside were the tiny clothes, socks, and a little quilt my mom had sewn by hand days ago.

She said I grew up sleeping under quilts she made herself. Now, all those things were crumpled up in the bags, like they were trash nobody cared about.

Benjamin followed my eyes, wearing a perfectly apologetic look. "Oh, those? Laura's husband, Charles, said his car couldn't fit them, so he said he'll come back for them next time," he said, sounding so casual, like he was chatting about tonight's dinner.

I finally turned my gaze back to his face. "Benjamin, where are the things?" My voice was steady, a bit rough. Maybe it was the wind earlier.

Benjamin replied, still playing dumb. "What things?" His eyes flashed that fake innocence I knew all too well. When I didn't react, he finally dropped the act. "I gave them to Laura."

He walked over, trying to help me sit down. "Margaret, listen. Laura had her baby today, a boy. Both Laura and the baby are safe. She didn't have anything ready, completely losing it over there.

"I figured you had everything here, and it's all top-notch, so I took it over to help her out."

His hand rested on my arm, warm, but I felt nothing but cold inside. Benjamin started his usual routine, trying to make me feel guilty. "Come on, we're family. Laura is my sister, shouldn't we be a little more generous?"

There he went again, trying to make me feel guilty. "You're not due for another month, right? We'll buy new stuff then. Even better stuff, okay?" He patted my hand, like he was pacifying a child who didn't know any better.

I stared at him, the man I'd loved for three years. How did I ever mistake his indifference for gentleness, his selfishness for caring, his weakness for responsibility? How did I end up marrying him, ignoring my parents' warnings and diving headfirst into this mess?

I slowly pulled my arm out of his grasp. Then I took out my phone and, right in front of him, called my dad. The call connected after one ring.

"Hey, sweetie," my dad answered, his voice as steady as ever.

"Dad," I said, my throat dry. "I remember you said if I ever felt wronged, I could always come home."

Benjamin's face changed. His smile froze.

"That's right, sweetie. I've always got your back."

"Don't bother coming to get me. Call a moving company. Have them take everything that's mine out of this house. Not a single thing stays."

Benjamin's face went completely pale. He tried to grab my phone, but I stepped back, dodging him.

On the other end, my dad was silent for a couple of seconds. Then he said, "Alright. I'll take care of it right away. Is it still your old place from before the wedding?"

"Yeah." I hung up. Everything fell silent around me.

Benjamin stared at me, his lips moving, but not a single word came out.

Less than twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. It wasn't one person. There were a whole bunch of people outside.

Benjamin snapped out of it and rushed to open the door. Outside stood a group of men in blue work uniforms. Leading them was my dad's driver, Henry.

"Ms. Lynn," Henry nodded at me, then stepped aside. Behind him, the movers filed in, each carrying professional packing boxes and tools. They were efficient and silent, not a word spoken.

Benjamin was completely stunned. He looked from the movers to me, still holding his cup. Maybe it was the calm look in my eyes that made him feel a fear he'd never known before.

The cup shattered on the floor, hot water splashing everywhere. His face went ghostly pale.

"W-what are you doing?" Benjamin stammered, his voice trembling.

Henry ignored Benjamin and walked right up to me. "Ms. Lynn, Mr. Lynn asked me to check which things here are yours?"

I took in the house I'd called home for three years. The wedding photos on the wall, the flowers out on the balcony, the couch in the living room, the dining table, and the chairs.

Every bit of it was bought by my parents when I got married. And the house itself? I was the sole owner.

I pointed at Benjamin. "Everything except him. Take it all."