Steven stepped in, saw me crouched on the floor—pale, trembling. His face twisted in annoyance. “It’s just laundry, Lucia. Stop acting pathetic. Who are you trying to guilt-trip?”
The sour burn of bile rose in my throat. I forced it down, swallowing the nausea. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
I started searching the floor—looking for the one thing that still mattered. My mother's pocket watch. It was torn to pieces. I picked them up, one by one.
Behind me, Steven’s voice cut through the silence. “When Nel finishes her recovery, we’re getting married. She’ll move in with us.”
Nellie turned to me, casting me her grateful look. “Lucia, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll never forget your kindness—”
I cut her off, not even sparing her a glance. I turned to Steven, voice cold.
“No. We’re not living together. I’m taking my mother’s things. Text me the door code—I’ll have movers pick up the rest.”
Steven pressed a string of numbers on the lockpad while looking at me with disdain. “You’re making a big scene. But in the end, you’ll come crawling back.”
Nellie tugged gently on his sleeve and said in a meek voice, “Mr. Grant… the bedroom…”