Chapter 3 - The Floor
I would not later describe it as a fight. Fights have two sides. This was a family closing ranks around one woman until the room had no air left in it.
Victoria stood first. Her chair scraped against the marble.
“You have no idea how much this family has tolerated from you.”
“Tolerated?” I repeated.
Richard folded his arms. “You’ve made Ethan’s life difficult from the beginning.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead like my refusal was an inconvenience, not a boundary. “All you had to do was respect my parents.”
“I respected them for years,” I said. “That’s why they think they can move into my house without asking.”
Victoria came around the table too quickly. I stepped back, instinctively protecting space between us. My heel caught the edge of a fallen napkin. I reached for the chair, missed, and went down hard onto the kitchen floor as plates crashed around me.
The impact knocked the air out of my lungs.
For a few terrifying seconds, I could not breathe. Pain shot through my back and hip. The ceiling spun above me, chandelier light blurring at the edges of my vision.
Richard stood only a few feet away.
He did not help.
Victoria looked down at me, breathing hard, as if I had somehow insulted her by falling.
Then Ethan stepped into the kitchen. Relief rose in me for one foolish second. I thought seeing me on the floor would break whatever spell his family held over him.
Instead, he frowned at the spilled food.
“What happened now, Elena?”
“Please,” I whispered. “I need a doctor.”
He crouched beside me.
For a moment, hope hurt worse than pain.
Then he leaned close and said quietly, “In this house, you follow the rules.”
A few minutes later, he stood and looked at his parents.
May you like
“Leave her there tonight,” he said. “Maybe she’ll finally learn some respect.”
That sentence ended my marriage.
