Meridel’s POV
That evening, I came home holding my niece’s urn.
Milton met me at the door. Without a word, I slapped the divorce papers onto his chest.
His face darkened. “Is this really necessary? All I asked was that you drop the lawsuit and apologize. Why blow this up like it’s a declaration of war?”
I met his eyes with calmness. “Sign it, then give it to me.”
He ground his teeth in rage. “Meridel, you really can’t stop, can you?”
“You’re in your fifties,” he continued. “Jeez, stop acting like some impulsive kid, trotting out divorce at the slightest quarrel. You think playing hard to get is clever?”
Milton and I had loved and fought each other for thirty years; the word divorce had never once been spoken between us.
To him, this sudden divorce agreement was nothing but playing hard to get.
Even our children, who had come out of their rooms after hearing the argument, saw it the same way.
My son Emerson sneered. “Mom, at your age, stop making a scene. Look at yourself. Who’s going to want you if you divorce Dad?”
I looked down at myself. I had roughened hands. I was wearing a cheap dress with dried blood staining the fabric.
He was right; I looked a mess.
But still…
“I wasn’t always like this. I did it for you,” I argued.
“Save the guilt trip,” my daughter Enid cut in. “You chose to be our nanny when your family went bankrupt and you had nothing to rely on. You were terrified Dad would leave you.”
Her contempt wounded me deeper than any physical pain.
As I stared at their faces—all the same as Milton’s, a cold emptiness spread through me.
Apparently, in their eyes, I was nothing but a lowly, unpaid nanny.
They were a family of three, while I was just an outsider.
And yet, I had given up pursuing justice for my niece to try to save them from the desert Milton had trapped them in.
How foolish that now seemed.
Fine then. If I were an outsider, then I could leave without ties. I could exact my revenge without scruples.
I took back the divorce papers and, in front of them, I crossed out the section that made me responsible for the children.
Emerson laughed. “You’re playing at this like it’s real. You clearly don’t know your limits.”
Enid shook her head in disappointment. “Mom, honestly, you come back and make everyone miserable. Why don’t you just move out and let Aunt Schandra live here?”
Milton’s face went dark. “Fine. I’ll have Schandra send your niece off properly tomorrow. For God’s sake, Meridel, give me a break.”
With that, they each retreated to their rooms.
From the start, not one of them bothered to ask about the bruise on my forehead, the one I hadn’t had time to treat.
Early the next morning, I held a farewell ceremony for Carolee.
Schandra showed up uninvited, as ostentatious as ever, decked out in finery.
“Meridel,” she cooed, fluttering around the coffin. “I came to pay my respects. It’s such a tragedy—poor girl died horribly.”
I pointed toward the door. “Get out. Don’t force my hand, Schandra.”
She just snorted. “God, you really are shameless, Meridel. Don’t act like I didn’t have reason to do what I did.”
She fiddled with her phone, her thumbs flying. Before long, whispers rippled through the small crowd gathered for the farewell.
“Who would’ve thought Carolee would go so far?”
“She was pregnant and behaving like that. No wonder she got herself killed.”
“The Yandells are done for. Kids without proper upbringing turn out like this.”
A sick dread crawled up my spine. I checked my phone, and blood ran cold through me in an instant!
Schandra had not only taken photos after my niece died… She’d even recorded the monsters as they violated Carolee! To make matters worse, Schandra posted everything online!
I looked at my niece’s ruined image on the screen and felt my chest split open.
The internet’s comments were obscene. I had never imagined my quiet, well-behaved niece would be humiliated even after she died…
And the woman who caused it all—she smiled as if proud of herself!
Rage swallowed me; I grabbed the nearest cup and smashed it to pieces.
Rage swallowed me. I smashed the glass beside me and, with the jagged shard, I struck toward Schandra’s chest.
“You deserve to die!” I spat.
