“Feeling better, Emily? I’m sorry. My phone died. If it hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been hurt like this.”
Looking at his fake concern made me sick.
“I don’t care anymore whether you answered my call.”
“Let’s just get divorced. Tomorrow morning, County Clerk’s Office.”
Both Ethan and Lily froze.
“What? You’re in this condition and still want a divorce? Who’s going to take care of you?” Ethan asked, shocked.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Can you stop making a scene? You’re hurt. Just focus on healing instead of being unreasonable.” Ethan’s tone was impatient.
“If you don’t agree to divorce, I’ll tell the police the truth.”
I stared at him. “Tomorrow morning at the County Clerk’s Office. Don’t think I won’t show up, even if I have to hobble there on crutches.”
His face paled, his expression twisted with anger.
I longed for the divorce. What good were a husband and daughter like this?
All this, just because of a parking spot? Sarah brought her death upon herself, yet they blamed me.
Why should I stay in such a family?
Near midnight, a loud knock woke me.
Startled, I sat up to see several men entering my hospital room—disheveled, dressed like vagrants. My heart pounded.