Chapter 4 - The BalconyI walked away from the table and stepped out onto the balcony. Morning light washed over the Manhattan skyline. Behind me, the voices kept going — Reginald walking through paperwork, Rosalind crying, Dominic asking questions he should have asked years earlier.
I rested both hands gently over my belly.
For years, I had quietly paid for the apartment, the groceries, the utilities, the trips, the dinners — every piece of the life Dominic claimed he was providing. He earned $25,000 a month. His mother controlled all of it. And somehow, both of them had convinced themselves that the quiet pregnant woman at their dinner table was the one financially dependent on them.
They had mistaken my silence for helplessness. My modesty for poverty. My willingness to support my husband for proof that I needed him to survive.
The night before, Dominic had told me he could have a hundred wives, but only one mother.
He was right about one thing.
May you like
He only had one mother.
And now he was free to go live with her.
