The Fourth Place Setting
Daniel’s hand struck my face so hard that my head snapped toward the window.
For a moment, the entire living room went silent.
Then he leaned close, his breath hot against my cheek, and whispered,
“You’ll learn.”
Behind him, Marissa stood perfectly still.
She didn’t rush to help me. She didn’t tell him to stop. She didn’t even look shocked.
She simply watched.
Daniel dropped a thick folder onto the coffee table.
“Sign the house over,” he ordered.
I stared at the papers, then at the man standing in front of me—the same child I had carried, raised, and protected through every fever, failure, and foolish decision.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You have no idea how much debt we’re in because of you.”
I almost laughed.
I had paid for his college. Bought his first car. Covered three failed businesses. Even helped with the mortgage after he and Marissa moved into the guesthouse “temporarily.”
But temporary became months.
Months became years.
And every favor slowly turned into something they believed they were entitled to.
Daniel grabbed the folder and shoved it closer.
“You’re old. You don’t need this much space.”
The bruise beneath my eye began darkening before they even left.
Marissa finally spoke.
“Just sign it. Why make this harder?”
Her voice was soft, almost sympathetic.
That was when I noticed the tiny black camera above Robert’s old bookshelf.
Daniel and Marissa never saw it.
They also didn’t know I had already called someone before they arrived.
At five-thirty the next morning, I stood in the kitchen preparing breakfast as if nothing had happened.
I ironed the lace tablecloth.
