The dining table in the living room was laid out with an impressive spread—steaming dishes that filled the air with rich, savory warmth. Through the kitchen doorway, I caught sight of Eunice bustling over the stove. She turned, spotted me, and her expression shifted from surprise to undisguised contempt—a mirror of her husband's.
There was a time I would have given anything for this kind of warmth. An orphan's hunger for family runs deep.
Now, all I felt was cold.
The moment I sat down, Cynthia walked over with the divorce papers and set them in front of me.
"Marcus. Just sign."
I scanned the document, taking in every clause.
I'd braced myself. But when my eyes landed on the words relinquish all marital assets—something still twisted behind my ribs.
I wasn't a live-in son-in-law. I'd never taken a dime from her father. The house downtown—I'd bought it. I'd spoiled Cynthia like a princess.
I didn't pick up the pen. I closed the agreement and set it aside.
Walter's eyes narrowed to slits. "What—you won't sign?"
I shook my head. "Just hold on."
"You came into this family with nothing. Don't tell me you think you're entitled to a share of my assets." His voice rose. "Don't even dream about it!"