"Let me tell you something—no matter what you do, you'll never be half the man my dad is! Everything you've done these past ten years? It just makes you more pathetic!"
Her words were sharper than her mother's. Sara's betrayal stung, but Elise's rejection carved straight through bone. I had raised her. I had fed her, taught her, stayed up all night when she had nightmares. And now?
Before Francis even set foot back in this house, I had already become nothing.
My vision blurred again and I could barely steady my breath.
My voice, hoarse and quiet, came out once more.
"Sara, let's get a divorce."
Before the mother and daughter in front of me could respond, a piercing voice snapped from behind.
"Oliver! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
I turned. My parents were here.
Elise immediately launched herself into my mother's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice trembling with practiced outrage.
"Grandma, you're finally here! This man stole my dad's place for ten years! And now, before my real dad even comes back, he wants to divorce my mom! You were right—he's nothing but ungrateful!"
Her words tumbled out in a breathless rush, as if she'd rehearsed them. Meanwhile, Sara didn't miss a beat. She gathered the sobbing Elise in her arms, her expression stone-cold. Without looking back, she delivered a final parting shot.
"Keep your son in check. Don't let him cause any more trouble for me."
With that, she walked off, taking Elise with her.
A second later, a loud slap landed across my cheek. The sting was sharp, immediate. My head tilted slightly from the force, but I didn't move otherwise.
My mother's voice rose, shaking with fury. "What more do you want? You're the Rogers' son-in-law. It's been ten years—any resentment you had should've burned out long ago!"
She jabbed a finger toward me. "You think we don't know you blame us? That you resent having to take your brother's place in that wedding? But what do you think would've happened if you hadn't? Do you think you'd be living the life you are now? If I were you, I'd be kneeling before Sara, begging her not to kick me out!"
My father stepped forward and pulled her back with a hand on her shoulder. He was calmer, but no less disappointed.
"Enough. He's not a child. Say your piece, but don't raise your hand again."
Then he turned to me, his gaze heavy with judgment.