I set my keys down carefully. “I already pay for everything.”
“And?” she snapped. “You married into this family. Family helps family.”
I glanced toward the den where Eric was half-watching a game. He had gone completely still, but he didn’t move. That told me everything: he knew this was coming.
I turned back to her. “What do you need five thousand dollars for?”
Diane lifted her chin. “That’s none of your business.”
That was all I needed. I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and checked the joint household card linked to my account. There they were—three recent charges from a luxury casino resort in Oklahoma and one from a boutique handbag store in Plano.
I looked up. “You’ve already been using my card.”
Eric finally stood. “Lena, just calm down—”
I stared at him. “You gave her my card?”
“It was for emergencies,” he muttered.
Diane slammed her mug down. “Don’t act like I’m stealing from some saint. You have money. I want five thousand, and I want it by Friday.”
“No.”
Her expression hardened instantly. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
The silence barely lasted a second.
Then she grabbed the mug and hurled the hot coffee straight at my face.
The pain was immediate—scalding, blinding, shocking enough to force a cry out of me before I could stop it. Coffee splashed across my cheek, neck, collarbone, and blouse. The mug shattered against the tile near my feet. I staggered back into the counter, one hand clutching my skin, tears streaming from pain and disbelief.
Eric shouted, “Mom!”
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