Chapter 2
At two in the morning, the baby's cries woke me up.
The screaming from the living room was piercing and wouldn't stop.
I rolled over and pulled the blanket up over my ears, hoping the crying would stop.
A few minutes later, someone knocked on the bedroom door.
"Emily, get out here." It was Michael, grumpy and barely awake.
I didn't move.
The knocking got more and more frantic.
"Emily. Are you deaf or what?" Michael shouted.
I pushed the blanket aside and yanked the door open.
Michael was wearing the silk pajamas I bought him last year for 400 dollars, wrinkled and sagging on him. "The baby's been crying nonstop. Go deal with it."
"I'm not the baby's mom." I was about to close the door.
Michael blocked the doorway with his arm, frustration all over his face. "Come on, can't you help for once?"
"$660 a day. Pay up front." I laid out the same deal as before.
Michael's face contorted with anger in the dim light. "Are you seriously asking for money?"
"What, you think I'm gonna be your free nanny?" I leaned against the doorframe, staring him down.
In the living room, the baby was still crying. Margaret was pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. "Why won't you stop crying? Are you hungry?
"Didn't I make you a bottle? Maybe you need a diaper change?"
She looked like a total rookie, completely out of her depth.
The funny part was, this really was her first time with a grandchild. Because I never had one for her.
"Are you going or not?" Michael growled, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper.
"And what if I don't?"
"Don't blame me if I stop playing nice." His hand was hanging there, mid-air.
I didn't flinch. I stepped right up to him. "Go on, hit me. My phone's got it all on tape."
Michael's hand hung in the air, veins popping with anger.
Finally, he snatched his hand back and stormed off toward the living room. "Mom, she refuses to help. We'll handle it ourselves."
I shut the door and lay back down.
The baby kept crying until four in the morning.
*****
The next morning, the doorbell was ringing nonstop, jolting me awake. It was 6:30.
I opened the door to find a young woman in a black coat standing outside.
She looked about 27, with long hair draped over her shoulders. Her makeup was on point, and she was carrying a designer bag that had to be worth at least 10,000 dollars.
It was Anna Smith, the mistress herself.
"Morning, Emily." Her voice and smile were both sugary sweet, but the smugness in her eyes was impossible to miss.
I leaned against the doorframe, not moving an inch. "What do you want?"
"I heard the baby cry all night, so I thought I'd drop by and see how he's doing." She wanted to walk right in.
I held out my arm to stop her. "This is my house."
Anna paused for a moment, then flashed an even more dazzling, smug smile. "Emily, two days left before you move out. This place is practically mine already.
"Michael said that once you're out, the baby and I will be moving right in." Her words were like a needle, hitting me right where it hurt.
I stared her down, enunciating each word. "The property deed lists only Michael and me as owners."
"So what?" Anna raised her chin. "Michael said he'll put the house and the car under my name. You don't even have a job. How could you ever afford a place of your own?"
I let out a cold laugh. "What else did he tell you?"
"He told me all sorts of things," Anna replied, her eyes sparkling with pride, like she'd been waiting for this moment to brag. "He said you've been nothing but a freeloader these past three years, lazing around at home.
"You're glued to your phone and TV, burning through his money and doing absolutely nothing.
"He said he's wanted a divorce for ages, pitied you because you had nowhere else to go.
"He said if you know what's good for you, you'll sign the papers on the 30th and maybe toss you a few bucks. Otherwise, you won't see a single dollar."
Every word was like a slap in the face.
I heard footsteps behind me.
Michael walked over in a shirt, his hair still damp. He must've showered.
"Anna, what brings you here?" He sounded so soft that I almost thought it was someone else.
Last night, Michael was screaming at me, and then he was all sweet and gentle with his mistress.
"I was worried about the baby," Anna cooed, putting on her best innocent act. She glanced over at me. "Emily won't let me in."
Michael frowned, fixing his gaze on me. "Move aside."
"This is my house," I repeated.
"In two days, it won't be." Michael snapped, pushing me out of the way so Anna could walk right in.
In the living room, Margaret was holding the baby. The moment she saw Anna, her face instantly lit up with delight. "Anna, you're here. Come on in, sit down. The baby cried all night. You're in time."
"I'm here to check on the baby, Margaret." Anna took the baby from Margaret, her movements smooth and practiced. She looked every bit the doting mother.
Margaret kept praising her, "See? Only a real mom knows how to calm a baby down. Look, the moment you picked him up, he stopped crying."
I stood by the door, watching it all play out.
On the living room couch, Anna was cradling the baby, Michael right beside her, Margaret handing out fruit, and my father-in-law busy in the kitchen making oatmeal.
They were the picture of a perfect, happy family.
And me? I was nothing but an outsider. In the very house I bought for $93,000.
I grabbed my bag and opened the door.
"Emily, where are you going?" Margaret shouted, her voice dripping with annoyance.
"Out," I shot back.
"Get back here. There's so much going on at home, and all you do is run off."
I didn't even glance back and slammed the door behind me.
Inside the elevator, my hands were trembling, not from fear, but from pure rage.
The elevator doors slid open, and Monica, my neighbor, was walking in. "Oh, Emily, out so early?"
"Yeah, got some things to take care of," I replied.
"I saw a young woman heading upstairs. Was she here to see you?" Monica asked, her eyes clearly fishing for gossip.
Everyone knew she was the building's official rumor mill. Nothing ever stayed secret with her around.
"Not me. She was here for my husband," I said, pausing for a beat before adding, "His mistress. She brought their kid along."
Monica's eyes went wide. "Wait, what did you say?"
"Exactly what I said." I stepped out of the elevator, leaving Monica standing there, still trying to process the bombshell I'd dropped.
My phone buzzed.
Jessica sent me a location pin: [Starbucks, our usual spot.]
I flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address.
Outside the window, the sunlight was blinding. There were 46 hours to go.