Chapter 4
But I didn’t expect that saying that would set Jordan off.
His eyes burned red with rage as he screamed at me, “Georgia! Are you trying to drive my mother to her grave?! Why can’t you just be a little more understanding?!”
Staring at this shameless mother-son duo who barged into my home like they owned it, I let out a cold laugh. “This is my house. If anyone needs to leave, it’s you two.”
I then pulled out my phone and started dialing the police.
But Jordan’s face twisted in anger. In a flash, he lunged at me, snatched the phone out of my hand, and slammed it to the floor.
Not satisfied, he also slapped me across the face, hard.
A searing pain spread across my cheek as it started to swell.
“Jordan, you dare hit me?” I asked, stunned.
“And what if I did?” he snapped. “You’ve been treating my mom like this right after she gave birth!”
He then raised his hand again and slapped me even harder, causing me to taste blood in my mouth.
Behind him, Mrs. Dawson clutched the baby and sneered, “You ungrateful tramp. How much of my son’s money have you spent over the years? Now we ask for one apartment, and you throw a fit? I’ll tell you now. This house and everything in it belong to us from now on. You’re not getting a thing!”
Then she gave Jordan a look, and he understood immediately. Without a word, he grabbed my arms and started dragging me toward the door.
I struggled with everything I had. “Let go of me! This is my home!”
But he shoved me right out the door.
“This is your home?” he scoffed. “Once you figure out how to be a proper daughter-in-law, then maybe it’ll be your home again.”
And just like that, the door slammed shut behind me.
I stood there in shock, barefoot in thin loungewear and slippers, locked out of my own
apartment.
From inside, I heard Mrs. Dawson’s triumphant laughter.
“Let’s see how tough she acts now! This place is ours!”
“Jordan,” she continued gleefully, “go see what else in here is worth money. We’ll sell it all tomorrow! Those name-brand bags alone should fetch a pretty penny.”
I leaned against the wall, trembling.
Not from the cold, but from pure rage.
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20.0
I thought back to when I first started dating Jordan. My brother didn’t like him. But I’d defended Jordan with everything I had. I guaranteed my brother that Jordan was worth investing in. I was the reason he started mentoring him, the reason he landed that director position.
And now that I had given everything, they had betrayed me like this.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
I had no phone. No money. And it was already late. There was no one around whom I could ask for help.
Just then, I remembered that an old retired professor lived downstairs, with whom I had a good relationship.
Without hesitation, I ran down and knocked on his door.
When he opened it and saw me, he frowned with concern. “Georgia? What are you doing out so late?”
But then he caught sight of the red handprint on my face and his expression darkened. “What happened to you?” he asked sharply. “Come in, quickly. It’s cold out there.”
But I shook my head, too exhausted to explain.
Instead, I directly asked, “Goodwin, could I borrow your phone for a moment?”
“Of course,” he answered and handed me his phone.
Without even thinking, I dialed the number I knew by heart.
Then a deep voice answered, “Hello?”
And the moment I heard it, my tears came pouring out.
“Lonnie… Jordan kicked me out of my own house,” I told on.
Just for a second, there was silence on the other end. Then his voice came again, low and
furious, “Don’t be scared, Georgia. My people will be there in five minutes.”
