What a wonderful family I had.
My husband cheated, and they told me to be generous about it.
His mistress took over my home, and they told me to be understanding.
Now, here they were again, demanding money from me with the audacity of people who believed they were owed it.
On what grounds?
"I won't give you a single cent."
My voice was quiet, but every word was clear.
Susan's eyes went wide.
"What did you just say?"
"Effie Fox, you heartless witch! You're going to sit back and watch my son die?"
She lunged at me, hands reaching for my face.
I was ready. I sidestepped, and she stumbled past, nearly crashing to the floor.
Marvin caught her just in time, then turned to glare at me.
"You dodged? You actually dodged?"
"Let me make this real simple for you. You're handing over that money today whether you want to or not!"
He started tearing through my apartment, yanking open drawers and dumping out cabinets, hunting for bank cards or savings books.
I watched him with the kind of detachment you'd give a clown performing for an empty room.
"Don't waste your energy."
"The money isn't here."
"And even if it were, you wouldn't get a dime."
Susan was shaking with rage, her bony finger jabbing toward my face as she screamed.
"You jinx! You cursed, husband-killing wretch!"
"The Swanson family must have been cursed for eight generations to let someone like you through our door!"
"I should never have let Dean marry you!"
The insults were sharp, each one meant to cut like a blade.
Once, they might have. Once, I might have felt the sting, might have swallowed the hurt and said nothing.
But now my heart was numb. I almost wanted to laugh.
I walked to the front door and pulled it open.
"Are you finished?"
"Then get out."
"If you're not gone in the next thirty seconds, I'm calling security."
My indifference pushed them over the edge.
Imogen's eyes turned red, her voice cracking with accusation.
"Mom, how can you be like this?"
"You're such a disappointment!"
Susan went further. She dropped straight to the floor and began wailing, rolling around like a woman possessed.
"Somebody help! There's no justice in this world!"
"A daughter-in-law this ungrateful, trying to kill our whole family!"
"Somebody come look at this!"
Without a flicker of expression, I pulled out my phone and dialed building security.
As two tall guards escorted them out, Susan was still hurling curses over her shoulder.
"You just wait, Effie Fox!"
"You'll get what's coming to you!"
For the next few days, the Swansons didn't come back.
They must have realized that brute force wasn't going to work.
But I knew they wouldn't give up. As long as Dean needed money for treatment, they'd keep circling back like flies drawn to the scent of blood.
Sure enough, a week later, my phone rang. It was Dean's attending physician.
He told me Dean was awake and stable, but agitated. He was demanding to see me by name.
I didn't want to go.
But the doctor's tone was earnest, almost pleading, and after a long silence, I agreed.
Some things needed to be settled face to face.
When I arrived at the hospital, the room was packed.
Every aunt, uncle, and distant cousin the Swanson family could muster had shown up, all wearing the same grim, pitiful expressions.
Myra was there too.
She sat at the edge of the bed, gently tipping a cup of water to Dean's lips with the tender attentiveness of a devoted wife. Her movements were more practiced than mine had ever been.
My children, Marvin and Imogen, flanked her on either side, gazing at Dean with open adoration.
What a touching family portrait.
The moment I appeared, every voice in the room died.
A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me at once.
"Hurry up and hand over the money," Dean said, his face twisted with disgust. "As for remarriage, I'll think about it."
I stared at Dean on the hospital bed, my expression blank, my voice perfectly calm. "Dean, I'm not here to remarry you."
The room went silent for a beat. Then my so-called family burst into exaggerated laughter.
"Running away from home gave you a backbone, did it? What happened, couldn't afford the hotel anymore and came crawling back?"
"Effie, why don't you take a good look in the mirror!"
"You're a woman in your fifties. Without our Dean, you don't even have a doghouse to sleep in!"
My mother-in-law rolled her eyes, looking me up and down like I was a beggar, mocking me from head to toe.
"Mom, just stop pretending." Marvin folded his arms across his chest and looked down at me. "Aunt Myra doesn't even hold a grudge about you causing a scene. She said she'd let you stay at the house."
He tilted his chin, towering over me. "Just swallow your pride, pay the medical bills, and maybe we'll let you have the storage room. Unless you'd rather sleep under a bridge?"
Imogen clung to Myra's arm, her eyes full of undisguised contempt for me.
I looked at them. All of them, united against me. All of them so certain that without the Swanson family, I'd starve in the gutter.
I wasn't angry. I actually laughed.
Myra seized the moment, letting out a delicate sigh. She leaned against the edge of the bed, frail and soft-spoken, her voice dripping with false concern.
"Effie, I'm fine, really. You can borrow the house for now. Just come back and take care of Dean..."
Dean lay in his hospital bed. Weak as he was, his eyes brimmed with the smug confidence of a man who believed he had me exactly where he wanted me.
"Effie! Even if you got on your knees and begged me today, I wouldn't remarry you—"
"Shut up."
I cut him off, cold and sharp. Then, slowly, deliberately, I pulled out a document stamped with a bright red official seal.
