Chapter 2
The first thing I did was step away from Marcus.
Not because I was afraid of him.
Because I finally understood what he wanted.
He wanted me angry.
He wanted me reckless.
And he wanted a video that made me look dangerous.
I stared at the phone in his hand.
"How long have you been recording?"
Marcus smiled.
"Long enough."
My mother stood behind me, trembling.
"Marcus, please stop."
He ignored her.
I took another step backward.
"You're not getting what you want."
His smile disappeared.
"And what exactly do you think I want?"
I pointed at his phone.
"You wanted me to hit you."
He laughed.
"Don't flatter yourself."
But his eyes told me something different.
I turned toward Mom.
"Get your suitcase."
Marcus folded his arms.
"Finally taking her away?"
I looked back.
"Yes."
"Good."
He opened the garage door with a remote.
"Then get out."
I wanted to say something cruel.
I wanted to remind him of every promise he had broken.
Instead, I walked past him.
My mother followed me into the house.
We returned to her bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed while I closed the suitcase.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"For what?"
"For bringing him into our lives."
I stopped packing.
"Mom."
She covered her face.
"I thought he loved us."
I knelt in front of her.
"Maybe he did once."
She shook her head.
"I don't know anymore."
I held her hands.
"But you don't have to stay somewhere you're not wanted."
She began crying again.
"What about Amara?"
"We'll find her."
"She left this morning."
I frowned.
"Where did she go?"
Mom looked ashamed.
"She said she didn't want us fighting because of her."
My stomach tightened.
"Did Marcus tell her to leave?"
Mom nodded.
"He gave her until noon."
I pulled out my phone.
I called my sister.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
"She isn't answering."
Mom wiped her face.
"She said she was staying with a friend."
"Which friend?"
"Someone from nursing school."
I nodded.
"We'll track her down."
I carried Mom's suitcase downstairs.
Marcus watched us from the living room.
He sat in a leather chair with a glass of expensive whiskey.
"Leaving already?"
I ignored him.
He stood.
"Monica."
My mother stopped.
For one hopeful second, I thought he might apologize.
Instead, he extended his hand.
"House keys."
Mom stared at him.
"Marcus."
"Keys."
Her face crumpled.
I felt anger rising again.
But I stayed quiet.
She removed the keys from her purse.
Her hands shook as she placed them in his palm.
Marcus looked satisfied.
"Good."
Then he turned toward me.
"And Jaylen?"
I stopped.
"Your townhouse keys too."
I looked at him.
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"Excuse me?"
"My wife lives there. I'm not putting her out on the street because you're angry."
He stepped closer.
"You have forty-eight hours."
I stared at him.
"Put that in writing."
For the first time, he seemed surprised.
"What?"
"If you believe you own my home, have your attorney contact me."
He laughed.
"You think you can afford a lawyer?"
I opened the front door.
"I'll find out."
Then I walked outside with my mother.
The moment we reached my car, she broke down.
I placed her suitcase in the trunk.
Then I wrapped my arms around her.
"It's okay."
She shook her head against my chest.
"I gave him twelve years."
I held her tighter.
"I know."
"He promised I'd never have to struggle again."
I closed my eyes.
"He doesn't get to decide what happens next."
We drove to my townhouse.
Brianna was standing in the kitchen when we arrived.
She was twenty-seven weeks pregnant with our first child.
Her dark curls were tied into a loose bun.
She wore one of my oversized T-shirts and held a glass of water.
When she saw Mom's suitcase, her smile disappeared.
"What happened?"
Mom started crying again.
Brianna immediately rushed toward her.
"Monica?"
I explained everything.
The ultimatum.
The garage confrontation.
The threat to take our townhouse.
Brianna listened without interrupting.
Then she looked at me.
"He threatened our home?"
I nodded.
Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach.
I hated seeing fear in her eyes.
"Don't worry," I said.
She looked at me.
"Jaylen, we have a baby coming."
"I know."
"We painted the nursery last week."
"I know."
She swallowed.
"Where are we supposed to go?"
I didn't have an answer.
And that frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
Mom stepped forward.
"I can find somewhere else."
Brianna immediately shook her head.
"No."
"But I don't want to cause trouble."
"You're family."
Brianna took her hand.
"You're staying with us."
Mom began crying.
I watched my wife embrace her.
And I realized how different love looked when nobody was trying to control it.
That evening, I finally reached Amara.
She answered on the fourth call.
"Jaylen?"
"Where are you?"
She hesitated.
"I'm safe."
"That's not what I asked."
She sighed.
"I'm at Tasha's apartment."
I closed my eyes.
"Why didn't you answer?"
"I didn't want you getting involved."
"Too late."
She became quiet.
I explained what happened.
When I mentioned Marcus threatening my townhouse, she began crying.
"This is my fault."
"No."
"If I hadn't moved in—"
"Amara, stop."
I took a breath.
"Marcus made these choices. You didn't."
She sniffed.
"I just needed somewhere to stay until graduation."
"I know."
Then she whispered something unexpected.
"Jaylen, there's something you need to know."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Marcus has been looking through Mom's financial papers."
I frowned.
"What papers?"
"Bank statements. Insurance documents. Old property records."
I sat down.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She hesitated.
"But last week, I heard him talking to someone about transferring assets."
My heart began pounding.
"What assets?"
She lowered her voice.
"He said Mom wouldn't have a choice once everything was in his name."
I stared at the wall.
Suddenly, the argument in the garage seemed much larger than an angry stepfather throwing his wife out.
I thought about the house.
The townhouse.
The money Marcus constantly reminded us he controlled.
Then I remembered something my mother told me years earlier.
Before marrying Marcus, she had inherited property from my grandmother.
A small apartment building and several investment accounts.
I had always assumed the money remained hers.
But I had never asked.
"Amara," I said carefully, "did you see any of those papers?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
She took a shaky breath.
"Jaylen, I saw a document with Mom's signature."
I frowned.
"So?"
"She didn't sign it."
My stomach dropped.
"How do you know?"
"Because Marcus was practicing her signature on another piece of paper."
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
Then she whispered the sentence that changed everything.
"And Jaylen?"
"What?"
"The document wasn't about his house."
May you like
I gripped the phone.
"It was about yours."
