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Revenge in stilettos

Chapter 3 No more begging

Word Count: 1199    |    Released on: 04/06/2025

ring midair, the divorce papers clutched tightly in my hand. Mark

rally silent. Cold. J

led laughter from inside. Lila's voice. She's in there again. Of course

ever was in th

myself a

s voice calls, l

the arm of Mark's leather chair, her fingers tangled in his hair like she owns h

prised to see me. He doesn't even move

I say evenly, hol

I'll give you two lovebirds some space," she says s

Mark has a meeting soon. You know that right?" She

he air like a slap. I used to wear that scent. I swear. Befo

his temples. "What

o

or years to salvage what we had. Give him peace and help him with bui

s on his desk. "I

. For once, he

y?" he asks, disbelief s

es

't be ridiculous. You're just up

ws I tried to be enough for you, for our son. B

make this about Lila. She's been g

s mother. And you let him ask me why I can't be more like her. You let him belie

appy. Lila makes him smile. When

th opens, but no sound comes out

I'll pack the rest of my things this weekend.

your son. More importantly, I owe you nothing

You already taught my son how to abh

h opens,

it for his

d on the living room floor when I step into the hous

at says he tolerates me.

my?" he asks, his eyes flicki

g a curl behind his ear. "But I want you to k

brow furrowing in irritation. "Is Aunt Lila

lowing. "But I needed t

n you talk? Aunt Lila says grownups shouldn't be sad all the tim

t meant to hurt. But they

o make you sad." I swallow the tea

ike Aunt Lila better. She gives me candy even

lawing its way up. "I

racted. "Will she ta

cheek. "But you'll always be m

t he's already turn

ing to cave me in. My son doesn't cling

smirking. She's changed into a silk r

ttle harder," she says, leaning against the

Take care of him. He deserves some

er hair. "Oh, honey. I

n it. "Enjoy the prize. Or maybe

lters for a

g behind me with a finality

he place is small, barely furnished. A hand-me-down

oor. My legs give out beneath me lik

ike Mark's house. This silence holds spac

en holding them in for far too long. For Caleb. For appearances

ouched in years. Not since I gave up my

. Familiar icons greet me l

he dark screen. Tired. Worn. But som

so

hen, I begin to type. I don't know what I'm writing. But

I'm done

bre

ime, I

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