He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, pausing only long enough to say, “You have no idea what you just started.”
Then he left, the door slamming hard enough to shake the hallway, sending a framed photograph crashing to the floor where the glass cracked straight between our faces.
I stood there for a long moment, listening to the silence that followed, before calling Olivia.
“He has been served,” I said.
“And?” she asked.
“He said I was nothing when he found me.”
There was a brief pause before she exhaled sharply. “That man really chose violence with his vocabulary today.”
Despite everything, I let out a breath that almost resembled a laugh.
The retaliation came quickly.
Within days, Everett froze every joint account, cutting off access to funds, insurance payments, and household expenses in a move that was less about finances and more about control.
I discovered it at a pharmacy counter when my card was declined, standing there under fluorescent lights while a stranger watched quietly from behind me, and the humiliation settled deep in a way that had nothing to do with money.
I paid in cash, left the store, and sat in my car with shaking hands before calling Diane.