Weeks later, the doorbell rang.
Stacy stood there, hair unkempt, clothes wrinkled, eyes hollow. The sister who had once basked in glory now looked broken.
“Henry still hasn’t found work,” she muttered. “We lost the house. He… he’s seeing other women. I have nowhere to go. Please, May. Help me.”
I crossed my arms, heart pounding. “You want my help? After what you did?”
Her lips trembled. “Maybe we could stay here. Just until I get back on my feet.”
I shook my head firmly. “No. My son comes first. The best I can do is give you a lawyer’s number. After all, you saved me from Henry.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “You’re cruel!”
I held her gaze. “Think about what you did to me. Then ask yourself who’s cruel.”
She spun and stormed away. I closed the door with a deep breath, my chest finally lighter.
