I picked up the suitcase that I had packed long ago and walked out as everyone watched. I didn't spare Jessica another glance.
I had barely left when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw that it was Dad. I hesitated for a long while before finally answering the call.
His furious roar exploded like a firecracker over the phone. "Michael, you must be tired of living! How dare you ask Ms. Lowe for a divorce? Get back here right now."
I didn't want to go back. My father, Theodore Jefferson, had gotten involved in an affair with the neighbor, Pauline White. She was now his mistress, and my house had become their home. I had no home left.
However, Mom's ashes were still there. If I was going to leave, I needed to take her with me.
The moment I stepped through the front door, a hand almost hit me as it swung toward my face. I had already been slapped once by Jessica today, and I had no intention of enduring a second slap.
I caught his wrist and shoved him away. Dad had too much to drink and could barely stand straight.
He clearly hadn't expected me to fight back. He widened his bloodshot eyes and cursed, "You ingrate! Are you trying to cut off my livelihood? How am I supposed to gamble without money? Do you want me dead? You ungrateful bastard!"
Dad had hidden the truth about Mom's death so Lowe Group would keep sending him money. But now that I had filed for divorce, the money was gone for good.
Pauline couldn't help but chime in, "Michael, this is your fault. With Ms. Lowe's status, dozens of people dream of marrying her. Why can't you learn to appreciate what you have?"
I replied calmly, "I won't change my decision. There's no point in persuading me. I'm only here to take a few things today, and I won't be coming back for good. Don't bother informing me if you two get married in the future."
With that, I returned to my room.
Dad lost his temper. "You ungrateful brat! What in this house do you think you have the right to take? Or… did you come back for your mother?"
The urn I kept by my bedside was gone. Hearing Dad's words, my heart clenched with fear. Sure enough, I turned around and saw Mom's urn in his hand.
My expression turned cold as I strode over to him. "Give it to me. You have no right to touch—"
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded. Dad had smashed the urn onto the floor, sending gray ashes scattering everywhere.
"I have no right? How dare you say that about your own father?" he shouted.
At that moment, the last thread of my sanity finally snapped. I lunged at him like a madman and pushed him to the ground forcefully. "That was your wife! The woman you were married to for decades! Are you even human?"
My words ignited his fury. He grabbed a beer bottle from the table and brought it down on my forehead with a loud smash. Blood streamed down my face and stained my white shirt crimson.
Pauline let out a shriek of terror. "Theodore, stop! You'll kill him!"
I lifted my head as the blood ran into my eyes and stared at Dad, who looked equally stunned.
Dad fixed his gaze on me for a few seconds, but there was no guilt or mercy in his eyes. Instead, he looked eerily delighted. He took out his phone and took several close-up shots of my bleeding face. After that, he dialed a number hurriedly.
His voice instantly softened into a tone of flattery once the call connected. "Ms. Lowe, I heard my son upset you again? Don't worry, I taught him a good lesson! Look at the photos I sent you. I didn't hold back at all. Please, be magnanimous and forgive him this once.
"After all, you two have been together since your school days, and you've been married for a decade now. How can you get divorced out of nowhere? Besides, it was my poor judgment in forcing him to break up with you back then. But speaking of the car accident, it was my son who—"
