He'd refuse to eat until he fainted, then tell Grandma I was starving him.
Every time, it gave Mrs. Morton an excuse to punish me.
Slaps. Kneeling. Whatever she felt like.
Asher would watch with a grin, sometimes adding:
"Mom, you're so useless. Aunt Olivia would never be like this."
Same old routine.
This morning, I'd put his coat on him myself.
Asher looked at the blood on my forehead and snapped a photo.
I knew exactly who he was sending it to—Olivia.
Smack!
I slapped the phone out of his hand, yanked him across my lap, and spanked him hard.
Before Hannah could explode, I pointed at the security camera above us.
"I put his coat on him this morning—right under that lens. Kids lie. As his mother, don't I have the right to discipline him?"
I clenched my fist, ready to swing at her next.
Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.
Still, payback came fast.
That night, the bedroom door crashed open.
Four men rushed in and knocked me out cold.
When I woke, I was in an unfamiliar hotel room. Zane's face was black with rage. He grabbed my wrist and nearly lifted me off the ground.
"Are you insane? Who gave you the nerve?"