Chapter 2

Michael blocked my way. "Claire, can you calm down for a second? Are you really going to walk out because of a few things they said? Is it really worth it?"

I pointed toward the door. "Your dad told me to move out, your mom told me to leave, and you told me to hand over my money. Now that I'm doing exactly what you all asked, you're still not happy?"

His lips moved, but he didn't say a word. "I didn't tell you to leave."

"Yeah. But you meant it." I dragged my suitcase, bumping it against his leg as I walked past.

The suitcase wheels rolled across the floor, the sound echoing into the living room.

Lucia was still sitting on the couch, not bothering to change her position. "So you're really packing up? Fine, as long as you leave, don't think about coming back."

I grabbed the document pouch from the shoe cabinet by the door. Inside were all the paperwork for the car, the appliances, and records of what I paid for the renovations.

Lucia saw the pouch and immediately stood up. "What are you taking?"

"My stuff," I said.

"Everything in this house belongs to the Shaw family," she snapped.

I pulled up the e-receipts for the fridge and washing machine on my phone. "My name, my account, and our address are all right here. I paid for all of this.

"Since you don't support freeloaders, there's no reason for me to leave behind the appliances and everything I paid for."

Lucia suddenly panicked. "Are you seriously going to take the appliances with you?"

"It's too late tonight. Someone will be here tomorrow to pick them up."

"You wouldn't dare."

I stared right back at her. "Why wouldn't I?"

James slammed his cup down. "Once something's brought into this house, it becomes Shaw family property. If you're moving out, grab your clothes and get out."

I pulled up the payment records for the last two years on my phone. "The AC cost 4,300 dollars, the fridge 2,800, the washing machine 2,100, and the kitchen renovation set me back 16,000.

"And the furniture plus all the small appliances? That's another 12,000 dollars. If you want to keep all this stuff, go ahead. Pay me what they're worth now, after depreciation."

Lucia's eyes went wide. "You've lived here for two years. Shouldn't you be paying rent?"

"Fine." I opened my notes app. "Rent for a place like this nearby is 1,500 dollars a month. If I only count half the space, that's 18,000 dollars over two years.

"And over the past two years, I've spent 45,000 dollars on utilities, property fees, and living expenses. After subtracting the rent, you still owe me 27,000 dollars."

The living room went dead silent.

Michael's face looked awful. "Seriously, you're going to nickel-and-dime your own husband? Aren't you ashamed?"

I put my phone away. "When it's about feelings, you start lecturing me about family rules. But when it's about money, suddenly we're supposed to act like a loving couple. You can't have it both ways."

Lucia marched right up to me. "Oh, so you think we're taking advantage of you now? You've been part of this family for two years and still haven't had a kid. Did we ever give you grief about that?"

She'd said that before.

Every time we had family get-togethers, she'd always use the fact that we didn't have kids yet to put pressure on me.

But both times we got checked out, it turned out Michael was the one with the issue.

To save his pride, I never told anyone. But my silence gave them more ammo to attack me.

"Don't mention kids again," I said and shot Michael a look.

He instantly turned pale.

Lucia was about to say more, but Michael quickly grabbed her arm. "Mom, that's enough."

It was the first time he'd raised his voice all night. But it wasn't for me. He was scared I'd spill the truth about the test results.

I dragged my suitcase into the guest room and locked the door behind me.

That night, the arguing outside never stopped.

Lucia accused me of thinking I was too good to listen to her.

James said I'd come crawling back once I'd had enough of the real world.

Michael knocked on the door three times. "Claire, open the door. Let's talk."

I slipped on my headphones and double-checked the move-in documents for Vertex Lofts. That apartment was Vertex Lofts, the company's exclusive housing for top tech talent.

It was 1,800 square feet, with three bedrooms, two living rooms, and luxury finishes.

The company covered most of the costs, and I only had to pay 260 dollars a month for management fees.

The project manager had submitted the application for me half a year ago. Yesterday, the application was finally approved.

I hadn't planned to move out right away. But the Shaw family made that decision for me.

At six the next morning, I got up and freshened up. My suitcase stood by the door.

Lucia heard the commotion and came out, a coat draped over her shoulders. "So, are you really moving out?"

I slipped on my shoes. "Weren't you the one who told me to leave?"

She snorted dismissively. "Every day out there costs money. When you come begging to return, you'll be handing over more than 70% of your salary. You'll have to hand over every dollar before I let you back in."

I swung the door open. "That's never going to happen."

Michael hurried out of the bedroom. "Where are you going?"

"To work."

"What about your suitcase?"

"I'm moving out."

Right before the elevator doors closed, I caught a glimpse of Lucia at the doorway, arms folded.

She wasn't worried at all, only wearing a smug smirk, clearly waiting for me to crash and burn.

*****

Half an hour later, I showed up at the company's admin office.

The admin manager checked my passport, then handed over a set of keys. "Ms. Harrison, your place is on the 28th floor. It's fully furnished. Everything you need, appliances included.

"And your parking spot is all set."

Once I finished the move-in paperwork, I hopped in a cab and headed straight to Vertex Lofts.

The elevator took me straight up to the 28th floor. The hallway was quiet, and my name was right there on the doorplate.

I slid the key into the lock and turned it gently. The door opened.

The living room opened up to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The river, the bridge, and the city skyline all stretched out before me.

I rolled my suitcase inside, and then my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Michael. [Mom says this is your last chance. Come home tonight and apologize.]

Then came a photo. In the picture, a locksmith, hired by Lucia, was standing right at the door to my old room.