“What game are you playing?” he shouted. “You think you can survive three days in the real world without my money?”

I lifted Phoebe into my arms. Her small body was warm with fever, her eyes swollen from crying all night. “My survival is no longer your concern,” I said.

My indifference enraged him. He lunged and grabbed my wrist. “If you walk out today, you’ll never set foot in this house again, even crawling.”

Gwendolyn sighed beside him. “Heather, think of the child. It’s pouring rain — where could you possibly go?” A small, malicious smile flickered across her face.

I raised my free hand and slapped her once across the cheek. The sound cracked off the stone walls; she stumbled back against Russell, clutching her face.

“That’s for looking at my daughter like she’s an inconvenience,” I told her.