"You're not getting out of this. You think you can just leave and enjoy life without me? Think again!"
As I saw the venom in her eyes, I calmly took out my phone and started recording, "Keep up this crazy act, and I'll send this clip to your boyfriends. Let's see if they still send cash after seeing the real you."
Olivia's rant cut off abruptly, her face falling silent.
She depended on that money, and she wasn't ready to gamble it away.
She tried to compose herself, but her eyes darted around menacingly as if trying to peel the skin from my face with her gaze.
After a pause, she forced a smile, more grotesque than weeping, and whined in a cloying tone, "Megan, did I upset you by saying you'd never get married? I'm sorry, okay? Look, I made your favorite meal to make it up to you."
She held up a bowl of spaghetti, overly eager as she handed me the fork. "Dig in! I added all your favorite toppings. And, oh, by the way, the landlord just stopped by again about the rent—it's just $3,000."
Waiting on me, huh? She had some nerve, thinking a bowl of pasta was worth three hundred bucks.
"I'm not living here anymore. You can handle the rent yourself."