Chapter 8 - THE PACKING PROCESSThe silence in the grand foyer was deafening.
Chloe burst into noisy, theatrical tears, storming up the stairs to grab her designer purses and clothes from the master bedroom closet—the exact closet where my uniforms and gear used to hang before they threw them into a cardboard box in the garage.
Colin stood frozen in the center of the living room, his arrogant facade completely shattered, looking like a whipped dog.
“Sarah… please,” Colin whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Don’t do this. We can talk about this. Think of Piper! We’re a family! You can’t just throw me out on the street over a stupid mistake!”
I looked at him with absolute, freezing contempt.
“You didn't think about Piper when you locked her outside in thirty-degree weather,” I said softly, stepping right up to him until he could see the cold fury burning in my hazel eyes. “You didn't think about family when you brought another woman into our home and erased my daughter’s place by the fireplace.”
I pointed toward the front door, where two large black contractor trash bags sat waiting on the porch.
May you like
“You have twenty-five minutes left, Colin. Start packing.”
He didn't argue anymore. Head bowed, shoulders slumped in absolute defeat, my cheating husband walked down the hallway to gather his clothes, his dignity stripped away piece by humiliating piece.
