Too quiet.
No TV.
No laughter.
I heard voices coming from the hallway.
I paused.
The door to Vivien’s bedroom was cracked open.
Rachel’s voice drifted out first.
“She’s getting bold, acting like she’s better than us now. I heard she got a raise or something.”
Vivien scoffed.
“She thinks she’s clever, but we’ll see how clever she is when Eric files for divorce and she walks out with nothing.”
My heart dropped.
“She’s just a wallet, Mom,” Rachel said with a snort. “She wouldn’t even fight it. She’s too soft. Just make her feel guilty. You’re good at that.”
Vivien chuckled.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been doing that for years.”
I stood there frozen.
Not angry.
Not shocked.
Just hollow.
I’d cooked for them the night before, paid their electricity bill just last week, and here they were, planning how to use Eric to take everything from me.
I backed away slowly, quietly.
They didn’t hear me.
I went straight to my room, closed the door gently, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Everything felt still, too.
I had ignored so many signs.
The way Vivien dismissed me in front of guests.
How Rachel used my things without asking.
How Eric always said, “They don’t mean it that way.”
But they did.
They meant every word.
I pulled out my laptop and opened my Plan B file.
It was time to move faster.
The next morning, I called a lawyer during my lunch break.
A woman named Carla.
Her voice was calm and sharp.
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