I stared at him, stunned. “My mom paid for half of this house. Why shouldn’t I ask for what’s ours?”
He pointed straight at the door. “That’s what you owe my son. You gave it willingly. Now get out. This place has nothing to do with you anymore.”
He was throwing me out without a second thought.
“Nothing to do with me?” I shot back.
“Who was it that begged me to marry him on his knees? Who cried and swore they needed my help? Who promised that once we were married, I’d have the final say in this house?”
“All I want is the part of the house that belongs to my mom. Is that really asking too much?”
“Was all that begging and crying just an act?”
I demanded, my voice shaking with anger.
A wave of bitterness washed over me.
James had insisted he couldn’t control himself that night, and he’d forced me, despite my saying no. I was so naive, I didn’t even know I was pregnant until three months later.
When my teacher noticed and rushed me to the hospital, the miscarriage nearly killed me.
James’ father had come to my mom, and they both got on their knees, begging and crying, promising they’d make it right, swearing they didn’t want to ruin James’ future.