He gave a cold, ugly laugh.

“Not my child.”

The words hit harder than any slap.

“Nolan, we’ve been trying.”

“I haven’t touched you in weeks.”

“That’s not true.”

His face twisted.

“Don’t insult me.”

I reached for him, but he stepped back like I had contaminated the air between us. Then he walked to the hall closet, pulled out my suitcase, and threw it open on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done months ago.”

He stormed upstairs. Minutes later, my clothes started flying down the stairs. Sweaters. Jeans. Shoes. My winter coat. I stood frozen while the man who had promised to build a family with me packed my life like trash.