Vivian, however, was not ready to surrender her delusions. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her cheap silk blouse, her eyes flashing with venomous defiance. “Oh, please. Let them come. What are you going to tell them? That you tripped over the rug because you were hysterical? You think the police are going to arrest a respected investment banker over the word of a hysterical, clumsy wife? I’ll tell them you attacked me, and Daniel was just defending his mother.”
She smiled, a cruel, razor-thin expression that sent a chill down my spine. “Besides, when they find out this is my house, they’ll arrest you for trespassing. I want you out of my home tonight.”
I didn't argue. I didn't need to. I just watched them. For three years, I had shrunk myself down to fit into the tiny, suffocating box they had built for me. I had paid the mortgage, bought the groceries, and funded Vivian’s lavish "lifestyle" while Daniel spent his paycheck on expensive suits and mysterious business trips. I had endured the emotional abuse, hoping that love would eventually conquer his cruelty.