Chapter 4
The woman's voice sliced through the quiet like a venom-tipped dagger, sharp and vicious, tearing straight into the heavy stillness of the cramped apartment.
"Carson, you worthless failure! You've dragged the Goodman family name through the mud!
"Debt collectors are camped right outside our front door, and the whole neighborhood's gossiping and laughing at us behind our backs!
"You've stripped your father and me of every last shred of dignity we had, you ungrateful bastard!"
Every word was a bitter, cutting insult, hurled at him without an ounce of mercy.
I watched Carson's entire body tremble.
The little color left in his already pale face drained away completely, leaving it ashen and lifeless.
His fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles went white, his lips parting but no sound coming out.
He wanted to defend himself, wanted to push back, but against his mother's unhinged rage, every excuse felt useless and empty.
'Mommy, Grandma's voice is so scary,' the baby whimpered softly inside my head.
'Daddy's heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it might burst right out of his chest.
'He's hurting even worse than before.'
The tiny voice trembled with quiet sorrow, mirroring every bit of Carson's raw anguish and silent panic perfectly.
The person who should have been his comfort was instead shoving him deeper into despair.
Carson's mother showed no sign of letting up.
"Get your ass back here right now!" she shrieked.
"Apologize to your father!
"And you'd better pay back every last cent you siphoned from the company to spoil that gold-digging vixen—not a single penny less!"
"The Goodman family has no place for a reckless black sheep who burns through the family fortune on some random woman!"
Vixen.
That was me.
I stared at Carson's pain-twisted face, feeling only cold, hollow ache—for him, and for myself.
He hung his head in total defeat, messy strands of hair falling forward to shadow his eyes, hiding every trace of his hurt and vulnerability from sight.
He looked like a condemned man on death row, stripped of all hope, too worn down to put up another fight.
I couldn't let him break like this.
Not now.
I stepped forward, and beneath his stunned, wide-eyed gaze, I reached out and took the phone from his limp, trembling hand.
His skin was ice-cold, completely devoid of warmth, and the line was still blaring with his mother's furious shouting.
I pressed the phone calmly to my ear.
"Hello?"
My tone was steady and unshaken, giving away none of my emotions.
The shrill yelling on the other end cut off abruptly.
Clearly, she hadn't expected a stranger to answer Carson's phone.
After a beat of stunned silence, her voice rose again, sharper and angrier than before.
"Who are you? Are you that seductive vixen who's led my son astray?
"How dare you answer his private phone!
"Let me make this clear—the Goodman family will never give you a single cent! Don't you dare think you can keep leeching off my son!"
I let her rant on without the slightest reaction.
Her insults didn't faze me at all.
"He's occupied right now," I cut in flatly, my voice cold and devoid of warmth.
"Sort out your own family drama among yourselves.
"As for the money you're screaming about—I want nothing from your family, not one dollar.
"And from this moment on, don't call this number again to harass him."
"Who do you think you are? How dare you speak to me like that?!"
Carson's mother shrieked, her voice spiking with rage and stunned disbelief.
I paused for half a second, then spoke slowly and deliberately, letting every syllable land cold and clear.
"I'm the mother of his child."
I didn't give her a single second to react. I ended the call immediately and blocked her number without hesitation.
Silence fell over the cramped apartment once more, thick and heavy, broken only by our quiet, ragged breathing.
Carson lifted his head, his eyes locked on mine, filled with a tangled storm of emotions—shock, confusion, helpless loss, and something deeper I couldn't quite place.
"Your family won't lift a single finger to help us," I said plainly, speaking the harsh, unvarnished truth.
"From now on, we only have each other to rely on."
His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but in the end, all he let out was a long, weary sigh heavy with exhaustion.
He slowly stood, walked over to the dusty window, and pushed it open.
The cool evening breeze swept inside, carrying the soft warmth and ordinary bustle of the old downtown neighborhood, clearing away the stuffy, suffocating tension trapped in the room.
After a long moment, Carson's rough, hoarse voice broke the silence.
"Thank you."
It was the first time all day he'd spoken to me with genuine emotion—not a cold transaction, not a dismissal telling me to leave, just a quiet, sincere thank you from the heart.
I didn't reply.
I simply walked to the groceries we'd brought over from the mansion and began sorting them out methodically.
We still needed dinner.
If we were going to face whatever storms lay ahead, we had to eat first, to gather our strength.