Chapter 2: The Kind of Woman You're Dealing With
Part 2 ⬇️
She was asleep.
The room was dark and quiet, and for a moment I just stood there, heart pounding.
Then I walked to the dresser — and picked up her scissors.
I didn't hurt her.
I want to be clear about that.
I sat on the edge of the chair beside her bed and I waited.
When she finally stirred and opened her eyes, she looked confused at first.
Then she saw me holding the scissors in the dark, and she went completely still.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Now you know how my daughter felt," I said.
"Waking up and realizing someone made a decision about her without asking."
She sat up slowly.
"You're being ridiculous."
"I haven't done anything yet," I said.
"But I want you to understand something.
This is my house.
That is my child.
And you will never touch her again without my permission."
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then her expression shifted — not to guilt, not to shame.
To something colder.
"You have no idea what kind of woman you're dealing with," she said quietly.
"Ask your husband what happened to the last person who threatened me."
I didn't move.
But my bl00d ran cold.
Because the way she said it — calm, certain, almost amused — told me this wasn't the first time she had said those exact words.
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What did she mean by that?
What happened to the last person who stood up to her?
May you like
What she said next — and what my husband finally admitted — will leave you speechless.
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