Chapter １２８

My father was reading The Financial Journal in the room he shared with my mother. My body tingled. I shook with rage.

“Get out,” I said. I never explained. He knew I knew by looking at my face.

He seemed relieved. My mother's fake illness wasn't causing him stress; it was his terrible lie. He forced me to sell to save his incompetent business.

I hated him more than ever in that moment. I don't know what I would have done if Luke had a gun.

I trembled as he packed his few belongings and left. Not long. Finally, he stood before me.

“Joyce.”

I told him, “Don't contact me again.” “Never again! Leave !”

Nodding, he swallowed. The thought of touching him made my stomach churn. I followed him up the stairs, nauseated.

His stooped back was to me, his hair angled. Weight loss.

It would be easy, a voice in my head whispered, and I considered pushing him.

Then he walked away, down the stairs, and I feared my own anger.

I could've pushed him down the stairs. I wouldn't have cared.