Tori thought she could leave four children with me while she flew to Japan, but she forgot one important detail: I had a flight of my own that afternoon, and I wasn't canceling it this time.

"You wouldn't dare," Tori hissed, taking a threatening step forward. "If you kick me out, I will tell everyone back home that you abandoned me in Europe! I will tell the entire church group, the family, everyone! You will be known as the monster who threw her daughter-in-law out onto the street!"

"Do it," I said, meeting her gaze without blinking. "Tell them. And I will show them the timestamped security footage from my front porch showing four children shivering on concrete at 6:30 in the morning. I will show them Patrice's emergency invoices. And Caleb will show them the flight records from Tokyo."

Tori's mouth clamped shut. Her breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps as she realized, perhaps for the first time in her pampered life, that her threats held no weight. There was no leverage left. No guilt trip to manipulate, no familial obligation to exploit.

"You're a cruel, bitter old woman," Tori whispered, her voice dripping with spite.

"I am a woman who knows her worth," I corrected her. "Nineteen minutes, Tori."

With trembling hands, she grabbed her designer purse from the chair. She didn't look at Linda, and she didn't look at me. She snatched the hundred-euro note off the table with a violent yank, shoved it into her bag, and stormed toward the door.

She yanked it open, paused in the hallway, and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes burning with pure malice.

"Caleb won't ever forgive you for this," she spat. "When I get back, I will make sure he never speaks to you again. You will never see your grandchildren again."

"Caleb is filing for divorce tomorrow morning, Tori," I said gently. "And he is filing for sole custody. The only person who might not see those children again is you."

Tori blanched, the color draining from her face until she looked like a ghost. Without another word, she turned and practically ran down the corridor toward the elevators.

I closed the door, engaged the deadbolt, and leaned my forehead against the cool painted wood.