Chapter 8

Latisha bit her lip, her eyes fixed on his face. After a long moment, as if coming to a decision, she let go of his shirt.

She walked past him, down the stairs, and over to the coffee table in the living room. Bending down, she pulled open a drawer.

Clifford followed her, his eyes widening when he saw what was inside: a set of divorce papers. They had been there for a long time, and he'd never even noticed. He'd never had a reason to open that drawer.

He looked at Latisha, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

She looked back at him, her eyes saying everything she couldn't.

*Let's get a divorce.*

A humorless laugh escaped him. "Are you throwing a tantrum?"

She shook her head, her hands forming the words. *No. I've been meaning to give this to you for a long time.*

It was true. She had wanted to give them to him for ages, but she'd never found the courage. What was different now? Was it the threat of losing her only friend? Or was the fever scrambling her thoughts? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that in this moment, holding them out felt like a massive weight lifting from her chest. It was like pulling a thorn out of her heart.

"You want to divorce me... because of Nikita?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. *It's not because of her,* she signed, her gaze unwavering. *I want to divorce you.* Her eyes were filled with a steely resolve he had never seen before. She was serious.

Clifford stared at her for a long moment before sinking onto the sofa. "Fine. You can have your divorce. But you'll leave with nothing. And you'll pay back every penny my family has ever spent on you. Do that, and I'll sign."

Latisha turned and ran back upstairs.

Watching her go, the hard lines of Clifford's face softened slightly.

A moment later, she returned, holding out a bank card.

Clifford's expression hardened again. He looked from the card to her face, a fire igniting in his eyes. His voice was deceptively calm. "What's this?"

She placed the card on the table. *All the money you gave me is here.*

"Did you misunderstand me?" he said, his voice dropping, tight with restrained anger. "I meant all of it. Everything my family has spent on you since the day you arrived Not just the allowance I gave you."

*I can pay it back. Slowly.*

He laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "You're a mute. The moment you walk out that door, you won't even be able to survive on your own. Tell me, how exactly do you plan to pay me back?"

Ignoring him, she picked up the divorce papers and placed them firmly in front of him, her face set with an unprecedented stubbornness.

*Once we're divorced, you can marry Yesenia,* she signed, her hands faltering for a second before finishing the sentence. *You can be... together forever.*

"Enough!" He snatched the papers and threw them at her. They scattered, fluttering to the floor

around her: One of the pages grazed her cheek, leaving a thin redne

against her pale skin.

Clifford stood, towering over her. He saw the mark on her face, then looked away, his voice regaining some measure of control. "When you have the money, we can talk about divorce."

He left her standing there and stormed out of the villa.

Back in his car, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply to quell the rage churning inside him. The little mute had grown a backbone. Daring bring up divorce. He hadn't even mentioned it, and she had the audacity to bring it up first?

Clifford had never been this angry with her. He didn't even understand why.

Latisha stood frozen in the silent house. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. When she heard the sound of his car driving away, she slowly knelt and began to pick up the scattered papers.

Why? The one time she had summoned the courage to let go, why wouldn't he let her?

Her head was spinning again. She took another dose of fever reducer, but this time, sleep wouldn't come.

Clifford was gone, and the vast villa was empty except for her. She curled up on the sofa in the dark, hugging her knees.

Around ten o'clock, her phone rang. It was Flint, Clifford's best friend. He knew she couldn't speak, so he got straight to the point.

“Latisha, you need to get to Mystic Cube. Clifford's losing it!"

The line went dead. She could hear loud music and shouting in the background— and she thought she'd heard Nikita's voice.

She pushed herself off the sofa, changed her clothes, and walked out into the night.