Chapter 4
Ryan stared at the laminated document, his jaw working silently like a fish hauled onto dry dock.
“You... you went to a lawyer?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “While you were at the salon?”
“I don't waste time, Ryan,” I replied, stepping past him into the hallway.
He didn't try to stop me this time. His arm dropped to his side like dead weight. Behind me, Carol was muttering frantic, panicked prayers under her breath, while Megan began to sob into a floral throw pillow, complaining about her blood pressure. I ignored them all, walking straight down the carpeted hall toward my son’s bedroom.
When I pushed the door open, Leo was sitting on the edge of his twin bed.
He had managed to put his sneakers on, though the velcro straps were pulled crooked across his small feet. He was clutching his stuffed green triceratops against his chest, his big hazel eyes wide with confusion and fear as he looked up at me.
“Mommy?” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. “Is Daddy mad at me because I saved the lobster?”
A sharp, searing pain tore through my heart, but I kept my face steady. I crossed the room, dropped to my knees on his dinosaur rug, and wrapped both arms around him, burying my face in the curve of his neck. He smelled like baby shampoo and cheap vanilla body wash.
“No, my love,” I murmured, kissing his soft cheek. “Daddy isn't mad at you. Nobody is mad at you. You did nothing wrong.”
“Grandma was yelling,” Leo said, his little fingers digging into the fabric of my salon uniform. “She said bad words about you.”
“Grandma is wrong about a lot of things, Leo,” I said gently, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Do you remember that big adventure we talked about? The one where we go stay at Auntie Hannah’s house near the beach?”
Leo’s eyes widened slightly. “With the big dog? And the bunk beds?”
“With the big dog and the bunk beds,” I confirmed, managing a warm, real smile. “We’re going tonight. Right now.”
I stood up, walked to his closet, and grabbed the blue duffel bag I had packed two weeks ago—hidden behind his winter coats, packed with spare clothes, his immunization records, his birth certificate, and his favorite books. I had prayed I would never need to pull that zipper. But deep down, in that quiet, instinctive place every mother possesses, I had known this day was coming since the first time Ryan asked to borrow my debit card and never gave it back.
I slung the duffel over my shoulder and took Leo’s hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
When we walked back into the living room, the scene had escalated into chaos.
Carol was on the phone, her voice shrill and hysterical as she paced the area rug. “I don't care what time it is, Harold! She’s taking the boy! She’s threatening to throw us out into the street!”
Megan was sitting on the sofa, clutching her pregnant belly, glaring at me with raw, bitter venom. “You’re an evil person, Lauren. Throwing out your husband’s mother? Kicking out a pregnant woman? God will punish you for this.”
“God didn't sign the lease, Megan,” I said, not breaking stride as I led Leo toward the front door. “And God isn't going to pay the sixty-two-hundred-dollar property tax bill that’s due on the fifteenth.”
Ryan lunged across the entryway, grabbing the brass doorknob before I could turn it.
His face was inches from mine, his eyes bloodshot, his breath ragged. “Lauren, please. Just leave the boy here until morning. You can go to a hotel, cool off, and we’ll figure this out tomorrow. If Marcus sees you driving away with Leo—’
I froze, my hand tightening on Leo’s small wrist.
“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “What does Marcus have to do with my son?”
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Ryan swallowed hard, realizing too late what his panic had leaked. “Nothing. Nothing, I just meant—"
“Who is Marcus, Ryan?” I demanded, stepping into his space until he was forced back against the doorframe. “Tell me right now, or I swear to God I will call the state police before I turn the ignition.”
