my college savings to fund Marcus’s doomed basketball fantasies. They even pressured me to keep quiet when he used a spare key to break into my house and destroy my $8,000 Italian leather sofa.
But that morning, I had finally reached my limit.
“I’m not watching Leo, Maya, and Ruby, Marcus,” I answered, my voice cutting sharply through the stillness of dawn.
“I’m literally heading to Hartsfield-Jackson airport right now to catch a flight to London. I am anchoring a five-million-dollar corporate merger. I will not be in the country.”
“You’re lying because you’re jealous of my marriage!” Marcus spat.
“Becky and I deserve this ten-year anniversary trip. I don’t care about your fake meeting. The Uber is booked. I am dropping the kids off on your porch at 452 Maple Street, and if you aren’t there, they can sit in the rain.”
Fear collided with absolute rage inside
