Chapter 2
I secretly took the supplemental agreement out of the frame.
After slipping it into a manila envelope, I started packing my bags.
I thought I was already numb from all the pain, that I couldn't feel a thing anymore.
But as I mechanically folded all my clothes and packed them into the suitcase, before I knew it, tears were falling down.
A wave of helplessness and injustice crashed over me.
I looked around the home I'd poured half my life into.
The cabinets, coffee table, and floors were sparkling clean. Every inch was scrubbed by me.
On the wall was our family photo from last year.
The four of us were grinning from ear to ear.
But in the end, money could destroy everything in a heartbeat.
"Mom, it's almost noon. Why haven't you started cooking yet?" Eric burst in, clearly annoyed.
I quickly turned away and wiped my tears, not wanting him to see.
This was humiliating.
But he still caught me.
Eric shot me a look and scoffed.
He said, "It's just a divorce. Look at you, acting all pitiful. Are you seriously crying over this?
"Dad said you don't have to move out just because you're getting divorced. So what's with the suitcase?"
He frowned, staring at the suitcase on the floor.
I looked up at Eric, the son I'd spent twenty years raising.
He really was John's son.
That whole "get divorced but not move out" thing was just their excuse to keep me around, so I could keep slaving away for them for free as their maid and caregiver.
The divorce agreement made it clear that I was walking away with nothing.
I didn't say a word. I just signed it.
John thought I was clueless about joint property.
When I signed it, he could barely hide his smug grin.
Afterward, he put on an act, saying I didn't have to move out after the divorce.
He said, "Susan, we've been married for years. Before the divorce is finalized, you can still stay here. Once I get my hands on the inheritance and buy a villa, I'll even save a room for you."
He was acting nice, but I knew he was scheming underneath.
I kept my mouth shut, just waiting for what he'd say next.
Sure enough, he suddenly changed his tune, and his real motive showed through.
He said, "But you'd better get this straight. Melanie's taking over as the new hostess. You're just a caregiver now, only here to look after me.
"From now on, you don't get to eat at the table with us. Your pay is your rent, understand? It's not like you'll get anything better working for someone else. Might as well stay here and serve me."
He paused, making sure I caught every word.
He added, "It's not that I can't hire a new caregiver. I'm just used to having you around. At least with you, I know exactly what I'm getting."
Eric and Alice immediately chimed in, acting like I was the one making out like a bandit.
They said that once Alice had a kid, I'd get to play nanny for their baby and enjoy the so-called "family bliss".
Even though I already knew their true colors, hearing them scheme so shamelessly still stung.
This was the family I'd bent over backwards for, year after year. They wouldn't rest until they'd wrung me dry.
Did anyone ever ask me if I wanted to be their free caregiver?
Just picking up gigs outside, I could pull in a solid three grand a month.
Why the hell should I stick around and serve them?
Why would I ask to be humiliated?
"Mom, why are you just standing there? Hurry up and make lunch," Eric barked, clearly losing his patience. Fed up, Eric kicked the suitcase over.
The manila envelope with the supplemental agreement tumbled out.
I jumped in a panic and dropped down onto it, trying to cover it up.
"What's with that envelope? What's inside?" Eric demanded.
When I hesitated and stammered, Eric got even more suspicious.
He was about to shove me, but John's voice interrupted just in time.
"Eric, come with me," John called out as he pushed the door open.
John pushed the door open and walked in.
He saw me sitting on the floor and looked at the clothes on the floor.
He probably thought I was just being sensible, clearing out space for Melanie.
John said, "No need to pack your things. Until we get the divorce papers, we're still sharing a room.
"Melanie's so high-maintenance that she can't handle living in a place this cramped."
I was so speechless that I almost burst into laughter.
John didn't even notice how I was feeling. He just kept talking.
"Melanie's coming over for dinner tonight. Make sure the house is spotless and go pick up plenty of groceries," he ordered.
He didn't even wait for me to answer. He just grabbed Eric and walked out.
With the loud slam of the door, they left.
I closed my suitcase and stepped out of the home I'd lived in for thirty years.
The will and the divorce papers would both take a month to sort out.
Until then, I decided to head back to the care company I used to work for.
When Wendy, my boss, heard about my divorce and that I had nowhere to stay, she immediately hooked me up with a kind family.
Even though I was getting older, I never let my caregiving skills slip.
Over the years, I'd picked up a nutritionist license, a therapy certificate, and a health management qualification.
Peggy was the one who snuck me the cash for those exams.
She used to say, "Gotta have a skill to call your own. When you earn it, you spend it with your head held high."
I was an orphan, and it was Peggy who showed me what real motherly love felt like for the very first time.
My new client, Helena, was sixty and had broken her leg. She needed someone to move in and help her with her rehab.
Every employer would check my basic info.
So, she knew I'd just gotten divorced.