Chapter 1

The day Linda Shaw hung a rope from the living room chandelier, she pointed at my pregnant belly and turned to her son, Victor.

"That baby is a girl. I know it. Nothing but dead weight. You divorce her today, or I'll hang myself right here."

Victor stood by the couch, silent for a long time, and then he finally spoke. "Mom, don't do anything crazy. I'll do it."

Linda pulled the rope down and burst out laughing.

But the very next morning, I placed the signed divorce papers on the table, neat and squared. "Let's go. Courthouse."

I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I didn't even pack a bag.

For three years after that, I never once set foot in that house.

Then one day, Linda showed up at the gate of my building, down on her knees and sobbing, and held out a disability card.

I looked at the name printed on it. I still haven't let her through the door.

*****

The day Linda hung that brand-new rope from the living room chandelier, the sky was gray.

No lights were on, and the room was so dim it felt like rain would start any second.

The white silk swayed beneath the old crystal chandelier, dangling there like a cold exclamation mark.

She pointed at the small bump of my belly, turned to Victor, and said it slowly, word by word. "That baby she's carrying is nothing but a drain on this family. You divorce her today, or I'll hang myself right here!"

Her voice was shrill enough to slice through the dead silence of the room.

Victor stood by the couch in a crisp suit he hadn't had time to change out of after work.

His tall frame was hard to make out in the dim light. He didn't look at his mother or me. He just stared at the dusty ashtray on the coffee table.

The silence dragged on long enough to freeze the air solid.

I could hear the second hand on the wall clock. Each one landed like a knock against my chest.

Finally, Victor opened his mouth. His voice came out low, drained of everything. "Mom, don't do anything crazy. I'll do it."

The second those words left his mouth, Linda smiled.

She hopped right back onto the stool and yanked the silk down, quick and efficient, as if she were claiming a trophy.

She tossed it onto the couch, where it crumpled into a wrinkled heap.

Her laugh came out loud, her whole face scrunching up with it. "That's my boy. I always knew you were the most devoted son a mother could ask for!"

I stood right where I was, one hand pressed over my belly without thinking. Through the whole thing, I didn't cry once, and I didn't say a word. I just watched the two of them finish their little show.

In that moment, I didn't hear Linda's laughter. I didn't hear Victor's hollow "I'll do it."

What I heard was something inside me crack and break clean through.

And then the whole world went quiet.

The next morning, I placed the signed divorce papers on the dining table, squared them up, and centered them.

Victor stumbled out of the bedroom with his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes. He saw the papers and froze.

I was already dressed. I looked at him calmly. "Let's go. Courthouse."

My voice was steady. So steady it didn't even sound like mine.

Victor stared at me, stunned. He probably expected tears, screaming, the whole dramatic meltdown Linda would've pulled. He thought I'd beg. But I didn't. I didn't even pack a bag.

I had lived in that house for three years and picked out everything in it myself, but I didn't want any of it. As of yesterday, this place wasn't my home anymore. It was a cage, and it made me sick.

Victor opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was, "Aurora, don't do this."

I didn't answer. I walked straight to the front door.

This man and his pathetic family weren't worth another glance.

For the next three years, I never set foot in that house again. I vanished from their lives as if I had never existed.

Today, I pulled into the underground garage of my gated community and parked.

My phone buzzed. It was security.

"Ms. Wynn, there's an older woman at the front gate. Says she's your husband's mother. She's demanding to see you, and we can't hold her back."

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. My makeup was flawless. I kept my voice flat. "I don't know her. Send her away."

Five minutes later, security called again, and this time the guard sounded rattled. "Ms. Wynn, she won't leave. She's out here crying and causing a scene, and a crowd's gathering."

I frowned, hung up, and headed for the elevator.

On the security monitor, Linda knelt on the polished marble floor in ill-fitting old clothes, her hair streaked with gray, sobbing and slapping the ground with both hands.

She looked nothing like the woman I remembered, the one who used to strut around like she owned the world.

I went down anyway, not out of pity, but because I didn't want her making a mess of my building.

The second she saw me, she scrambled over on her hands and knees and reached for my legs like I was her last hope.

I stepped back and dodged her.

Her hands froze in midair, tears streaming down her face. She looked pathetic.

"Aurora, I was wrong. Please, save Victor!"

She was sobbing as she pulled a disability card from inside her coat, her hands trembling, and held it out to me.

I lowered my eyes and read the name on the card. Victor Shaw.

That name and the reason I still hadn't let her through my door were one and the same.

I looked at her and said nothing.