“He’s my brother!”
“That was my hard-earned money too!”
Brandon immediately lost his patience.
“We will discuss this maturely when you bring your stuff back home tomorrow.”
“I am never stepping foot in that apartment again.”
“Elena, enough with the dramatic nonsense! Tomorrow I’ll pay for a hotel room for your mother, and you’re coming back home where you belong.”
I stared at my own reflection in the hotel window.
“Did you really just decide where my mother and I are allowed to live?”
“I’m trying to save our marriage!”
“No. You’re desperately trying to regain control over me.”
Then I hung up.
Two days later, I returned to the apartment with Claire and a civil escort so I could retrieve clothing, personal belongings, and important documents.
Brandon wasn’t there when we arrived.
As we crossed the lobby, the senior doorman, Mr. Davis, called me over.
