Chapter 7

I sneered, "Ever since Ryan chose to be with the girl you raised, whether he's happy or not has nothing to do with me.

"If he's so eager to call you Dad and Olivia Mom-in-law, then you can have him. But he's not getting a single dollar from me."

Mark looked genuinely stunned, clearly not expecting that I didn't care about Ryan at all.

Then he shot up from his seat, his face twisted with anger. "Helen, you were the one who wanted the divorce, and you insisted on keeping Ryan. Since you chose him, you should've taken good care of him.

"Now you're cutting off his money and forcing him to break up with the woman he loves. Do you deserve to be called his mother?"

"Get out!" I snapped, not budging an inch. If I didn't deserve to be a mother, then he didn't deserve to be a person.

"Helen," Mark yelled, "you want to use money to control Ryan, force him to leave the woman he loves, and keep him away from his birth dad, me.

"Forget it. You're dreaming. With how selfish you are, it's no wonder Ryan doesn't want to call you mom. You'll end up all alone, and nobody will care when you're gone—"

Before he could finish, someone literally kicked him out the door.

My Gen Z assistant, Gracie, looked like a furious little beast. "Who the hell is this old bastard, spouting bullshit here?"

As soon as she finished, a few more people rushed in. They pinned Mark down, and Gracie slapped him ten times in a row. His face puffed up instantly.

"Helen, this is intentional assault. I'm calling the cops. You're going straight to jail," Mark shouted.

Gracie slapped him again. "Keep yapping, and I will slap you into next week."

To my shock, the little spitfire slammed her head against the wall, her forehead turning red. "You started it, old geezer. Everything I did was self-defense."

I was left speechless.

Then she whipped out her phone. "Hey, officer, some old dude hit me."

When the cops showed up, Gracie looked like she was about to cry. "Officer, he barged into our office and started swinging at me for no reason. I was defending myself. You gotta back me up here."

After the cops took Mark away, I stood there, still in shock. It turned out that was one way to handle it. That was wild and so damn satisfying.

I quickly called the legal department. "Get over to the police station and get Gracie out of there. And if you can, make sure that old geezer spends a few more days behind bars."

*****

That night, someone was pounding on my door. "Mom, please open up. I know you're home. The lights are on. Mom, it's Ryan. Can we talk? Mom, please."

I sighed and opened the door.

Ryan was standing outside, his eyes red and swollen, his hair a mess, and his clothes all wrinkled. He looked totally worn out, as he'd been through hell.

It had only been a month. He'd gotten so much skinnier, and there was a rough stubble on his chin.

As soon as he saw me, he dropped to his knees, desperate. "Mom, Emily's pregnant. When she found out Dad got locked up, she got so upset that it messed up her pregnancy. Please, Mom, let Dad go, okay?"

I stayed silent.

"Mom, Emily's pregnant with my baby, your grandchild. For the baby's sake, can't you forgive and forget? Please, Mom, I'm begging you." Ryan was grounded, looking up at me, his eyes filled with pleading.

I stood in the doorway, looking down at him.

He stayed there on his knees, clearly not planning to move an inch. He was guilt-tripping me, using our family bond and my love for him to try to manipulate me.

"Mom, say something. Emily's pregnant. You're about to be a grandma. Don't you want to see what your grandchild looks like?" he pleaded. "Don't you want to hold him? He's your blood, your own grandson. Mom."

"That's your problem, not mine," I said.

Ryan froze. He was grounded there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Mom, what are you saying? Emily's having my kid, your grandkid. And you say it doesn't matter to you?" Ryan stared at me, totally stunned.

"That's right," I said, meeting his gaze. "It has nothing to do with me."

"Mom!" Ryan's voice shot up, his eyes burning red with emotion. "How can you say that? That's your grandson. My son. Your own flesh and blood."

"I said it has nothing to do with me," I replied, keeping my voice steady, but my hands shook. I hid them behind my back so he wouldn't notice.

"You're insane. Seriously, have you lost your mind? You don't even care about your own grandson? How heartless can you be?" Ryan shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"Ryan," I said, looking down at him, "I don't even want a son anymore. Why would I care about a grandson?"

Ryan stayed grounded there, like he was an empty shell, all the fight drained out of him. Tears streaked his face, but his eyes had changed. There was no more begging or feeling wronged, only resentment.

He slowly got to his feet, his knees shaky from being grounded so long, and nearly stumbled. "Alright," he said. "Mom, if this is what you want, then have it your way.

"Just act like you never had me as your son. And I'll... act like I never had a mom."

I watched him walk away, his back to me. My heart felt utterly empty. A swarm of sharp, prickling pain crawled across my chest. I closed my eyes.

This time, I didn't slash my wrists, overdose on pills, or crash my car. But I still felt like I'd died all over again. Maybe that was for the best. At least now I wouldn't let myself soften anymore.