Diane Morrison left the empty bucket with a satisfied smile, as if she had finally cleaned a stain.
Brendan, my ex-husband, watched from his chair with distant amusement; his designer shirt remained untouched, with a serene and cruel expression.
They thought they were punishing a beggar. They had no idea they were insulting their landlord.
Chapter 2: The Mistake They Never Saw
For a moment, no one moved.
The chandelier shone down on us. The silverware lay beside the untouched plates. Jessica, Brendan's sister, stifled a laugh with her wine glass, while Diane looked at me with the proud satisfaction of a woman who believed power was inherited through one's family name.
Then my son kicked.
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