"Otherwise, you won't like what happens next."
Georgette flinched under my gaze.
But it only took a second for that brazen look to slide right back into place.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"This is my son's house. I'll bring whoever I want here. Who are you to tell me otherwise?"
"Your son's house?"
The sarcasm was practically dripping from my voice.
Back when we first got married, Edgar had begged me to tell everyone the house was his. To save his pride.
I hadn't liked it, but I figured we were husband and wife. It wasn't worth the fight.
After that, the lies he told to protect his ego only multiplied.
The car I bought became his car.
I earned four times his salary and kept the household running. He'd been unemployed for six months, yet somehow told people I depended on him.
His mother believed every word, decided I was worthless, and assumed that no matter how badly she treated me, I'd never leave.
When the worthless one had been her son all along.
"Your son doesn't have a house."
My tone was pure mockery.
"This place was paid for, start to finish, with my—"
"Fern!"
Edgar cut me off, his voice sharp with panic. He grabbed my arm without waiting for a response and dragged me out to the balcony.