Chapter 3

I answered. A cautious voice came from the other end. "Mrs. Shaw? Is that you?"

It was Mary, the housekeeper at Andrew's place. I gave a flat hum in response.

Mary sounded like she was about to cry. "Mrs. Shaw, where are you? Mr. Shaw's been looking for you everywhere!"

I almost laughed. Looking for me? Five days without a single call or message, and that was supposed to count as searching? "Why is he looking for me?" I asked calmly.

"Mr. Shaw's drunk. He's running a high fever and keeps calling your name. I can't take care of him. Please come back!" Her voice was full of panic and pleading.

I was silent for a moment. If this had happened before, I would've rushed back the instant I heard Andrew was sick. But now, nothing in me moved.

Maybe the cold wind from those two hours at the airport had chilled my heart too. Or maybe those five unburdened days had helped me find myself again.

"Mary, he's an adult. If he's sick, he knows how to go to the hospital. You're the housekeeper, not his doctor. If it's serious, call an ambulance." Then I hung up on her and blocked her number.

I didn't want another call from that house. I had barely finished when another one came in.

It was Helen Shaw. Looks like ignoring her voice message hadn't worked, so she went straight to calling. I took a deep breath and answered.

"Charlotte Quinn! So you do know how to answer your phone!" Helen's shrill roar nearly pierced my eardrums. "I'm telling you right now, Andrew's burning up with a fever. If anything happens to him, I won't let you off the hook. Get back here and take care of him!"

She sounded so self-righteous, like I had been born to serve the Shaw family. I said nothing and let her vent.

Only after she wore herself out and stopped to catch her breath did I speak. "First, I'm not your maid. I have no obligation to wait on him."

"Second, he's my husband, not my son. I have no obligation to baby him either." "Third, and most important of all," I said, pausing just long enough for every word to land.

"Mrs. Shaw, keep your son in line. If he doesn't even know to go to the hospital when he has a fever, maybe take him home and raise him all over again." I hung up before she could react.

At last, the world was quiet. I leaned back against the couch and let out a long breath. Before this, I never would've dared speak to Helen that way.

Andrew always said his mother had it hard and asked me to give in to her more. I did it for eight years. All I got in return was more contempt and endless demands. Now I was done.

That evening, my parents could tell something was off and carefully asked if I'd had a fight with Andrew. I didn't want to hide it from them anymore, so I told them everything that had happened at the airport.

My mom's eyes turned red on the spot. "How dare Andrew Shaw treat you like that?" My dad's face went hard. Without a word, he got up and headed inside to grab his phone.

I stopped him. "Dad, this is my problem. Let me handle it myself." I looked at them steadily. "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry you've had to swallow all this for so many years. And I'm sorry for what I did to myself too."

That night, my dad had a little drink with me. He told me home would always be there for me, and no matter what choice I made, they'd stand by me.

The next day, Andrew finally sent his first message. There was no apology, no explanation, just one cold, commanding question: [Are you done throwing a fit? Where are you?]