I Am Too Tired To Love You

Then, his cold hand slid up my thigh, right in front of everyone.

I snapped.

In that one moment, ten years of pent-up resentment erupted. I fought back with all my might, sinking my teeth into his arm.

"Shit! What are you, a fucking animal?" Nolan roared, yanking his hand away.

My glare was venomous. "Don't touch me. You make me sick."

"Oh, I make you sick?" His laughter turned sharp. Vicious.

He snatched the agreement from my hand and scribbled his signature with a flourish.

"Fine. You want to play this game? Let's play."

He put his phone on speaker and called the director of Premier Care, a private nursing home. "Stop all treatment for Margaret Hollis and cut off all payments to her account. Effective immediately."

Nolan hung up, shooting me a look of pure triumph. "Did you hear that? They only hold the bed for twenty-four hours once payment stops. Use that time to think long and hard about whether you want to come crawling back to me like a dog."

The smug certainty on his face was nauseating; he was convinced I would never risk my mother's life.

But Nolan…

You don't know.

The night my mother passed away, the nurse called me again and again with urgent updates. I begged you over and over to come back and sign for the surgery.

And where were you? You were at a yacht party, telling me impatiently over the phone, "Your mother's dying? Really, Claire? What new lie have you cooked up to get my attention? If you want me to come home, stop using your mother to manipulate me."

She died that night. The only person in this world who truly loved me was gone.

So, no. You can't threaten me anymore.

I stared at his arrogant face and said, "Do whatever you want. See you in court next month."

Then I grabbed the small bag I had packed days ago and walked out of that gilded cage without a backward glance.