“Damn it!” Daniel roared.
He didn’t throw his shoulder against the door this time. Instead, he kicked it. The heavy, solid wood shuddered, and the bottom latch tore completely out of the drywall. The door swung inward by a few inches, blocked only by my body weight and the heavy wicker laundry hamper I had dragged in front of it.
The gap was now wide enough for him to see us clearly.
Daniel’s eyes locked onto mine. A sickening, cruel smile spread across his lips. “There you are. Look at you. Look at what you’ve done to our son, Rachel. If you had just signed the divorce papers and let me have the trust fund, we wouldn’t be here.”
“You… you monster,” I choked out, my voice raspy, my throat burning as if filled with acid. It was the first time I had spoken, and it took every ounce of my remaining strength.
