Chapter 5 - The Price of Peace
By the end of the week, Michael came to see me at the upscale apartment I had rented downtown.
When I opened the door, he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. His face was pale, his tie was loose, and the arrogant, dismissive husband from the dinner table was entirely gone.
“Laura,” he gasped, stepping into the hallway. “My mother says the bank just called. They’re threatening foreclosure on the restaurant.”
“I’m sure they did,” I replied smoothly, crossing my arms.
“And Rebecca says the catering company may completely collapse by Monday! Her credit lines are frozen!” Michael continued, panic raising the pitch of his voice. “You have to fix this, Laura.”
I stared at the man who had asked me to remain silent after his sister physically struck me.
“No, Michael,” I said quietly.
He looked at me in utter disbelief. “What do you mean, no? They’re my family!”
“I know.”
“Then how can you do this to them?!” he shouted, desperation making him furious.
I smiled, a sad, brief expression of absolute finality. “I’m not doing anything to them, Michael.”
I walked over to the entryway table, picked up the thick manila envelope containing my signed divorce papers, and placed them firmly against his chest.
“I simply stopped doing everything for them.”
For twelve years, Michael’s family had mistaken my immense generosity for weakness. They thought they had trapped a rich girl who was desperate for their validation. Rebecca thought she was teaching me my place when she slapped me across the face at my own anniversary dinner.
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Instead, she reminded me exactly where my place was.
My place was not beneath their bitter, ungrateful family. It was not hiding behind a husband who was too much of a coward to stand up for his wife. And it would never again be at a table where I had to pay for the privilege of being disrespected.
