My 1000th Attempt Worked

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

I snapped.

Fought like hell and sank my teeth into his arm.

"You some kinda animal?" Mark hissed.

I stared him down. "Don't touch me. You make my skin crawl."

"Oh, I make your skin crawl?" His laugh turned sharp. Mean.

He yanked the papers from my hand and signed with this smug little flourish.

Then barked at his assistant, "Cut off Mrs. Jensen's medical payments. Let Jenna find out what skin crawl REALLY feels like."

He shot me a smug glance. "Your mom's got one week left. Use it to decide if you're crawling back to beg."

He looked so damn sure of himself—like I'd never risk my mom's life.

But Mark...

Back when the nurses kept calling with emergencies, I begged you to visit her. Over and over.

You said, "That old hag's dying? What's your new lie this time? If you want me back, stop cursing your mom."

She died that night. The only person who ever really loved me—gone.

So no. You wouldn't get to threaten me anymore.

I stared at that arrogant face and said, "Whatever. See you in court next month."

Then I grabbed my small bag—packed days ago—and walked out.

I'd already rented a cheap apartment earlier that week. Didn't have much to move, so settling in was fast.

Lying on the bed, finally alone, my phone lit up—Dad.

I hesitated. Then picked up.

His voice exploded through the speaker. "Jenna Jensen, you got a death wish?! How dare you ask Mark for a divorce—get your ass back here!"

I didn't wanna go back.

While Mom was in a hospital bed, Dad was cozying up with Fiona, our neighbor. That house? It was theirs now.

I had no home.

But Mom's urn was still there. And if I was leaving, I wasn't leaving without her.

The second I stepped in—before I even got my coat off—Dad slapped me hard.

He'd kept Mom's death secret just to keep milking money from Mark. Now that I'd filed for divorce, the cash train was done.

He was drunk, barely standing, but the hit landed hard.

I crashed to the floor.

Fiona rushed over, but he snapped, "Don't help her! Her mom dies and she cuts off my money? How am I supposed to gamble now? She's trying to kill me! Ungrateful brat!"

Fiona tried to patch it up. "Jenna, don't be so quick. Mark's a CEO. Most girls would KILL for that. I know it sucks, but the money's real. Being his wife is real."

I pushed off the floor. "I've made my choice. Stop trying to change my mind."