Mark gestured vaguely toward the door. “You can sleep in the living room. On the couch. You stay up late watching TV anyway, right? It makes more sense.”
He was demoting me. In the castle I had built, he had assigned me the role of a transient guest, a court jester to be tolerated in the common areas while he and the queen mother retired to the royal chambers. The anger inside me didn’t explode. It didn’t rage. It condensed, collapsing in on itself until it became a single, perfect, razor-sharp point of ice in the center of my chest.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t argue any further. There was nothing left to argue about. The marriage was a corpse, and they were dancing on its grave.
I looked at my watch. The sleek, silver face read 4:30 PM.
“Get out of my house,” I said.
My voice was different. It was low, flat, and dangerous. It was a voice neither of them had ever heard before.
They both stopped what they were doing and stared at me.
“What did you say?” Mark asked, a hint of a smirk on his face.
“You heard me,” I said, my eyes locking onto his. “You have thirty minutes. If you and your mother are still on this property after 5:00 PM, I am calling the police and having you removed for trespassing.”
Chapter 3: 30 Minutes of Ignorance
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, Mark burst out laughing. It was a loud, ugly, braying sound that filled the room. Linda joined in, her shrill cackle following his.
“Are you crazy?” Mark said, shaking his head as he picked up one of my pillows—a silk, hypoallergenic pillow for my allergies—and threw it at my face. I dodged it easily. “Inheritance what? Don’t be stupid, Elena. Your money is my money. That’s the law. We’re married.”
