My Family Made a Group Chat Without Me, I Rose Above Them Chapter 05

My Family Made a Group Chat Without Me, I Rose Above Them Chapter 05

There was only one response.

“Good. A private jet will be waiting for you in three days.”

I hung up and stood outside the office building. The blood at the back of my head had dried, sticking

to my hair in a hard clump.

My phone vibrated. It was the hospital.

“Ms. Bennett, Sophie Hart was brought in by your family. She has second–degree burns from ho soup and needs to stay for observation. As for the bill…”

“Send her bill to Ethan Brooks.”

“But Mr. Brooks said this family account is in your name…”

“That account has nothing to do with me anymore.”

I hung up and flagged down a cab.

The driver kept looking at me in the rearview mirror.

“Miss, your head is bleeding. Do you want me to take you to a hospital?”

“Take me home.”

After I got home, I showered and changed into clean clothes. In the mirror, I checked the cut on the back of my head. It wasn’t deep, but blood had soaked through the collar of my white shirt.

I wrapped it up as best I could, pulled my suitcase shut, and booked a hotel.

At seven that night, my phone blew up.

Leo sent a voice message from Ethan’s phone.

“Mom, why did you burn Aunt Sophie? My teacher says burning people is wrong. You’re a bad

mom.”

I didn’t reply.

Mom called next. I let it ring three times.

On the fourth call, she used Ryan’s phone. I answered.

“Nora, Sophie is in the hospital, and you’re ignoring every call?”

“What does her being there have to do with me?”

“What happened to you? We deleted the group chat. What more do

you want?”

“Mom, this is the last time I’ll call you Mom. Leo isn’t my son. You, Ethan, and Ryan kept that from me for four whole years. What did you expect me to do?”

Silence fell on the other end.

A few seconds later, Ryan’s voice cut in.

“Nora, who filled your head with that nonsense?”

“You said it yourself in Sophie’s iMessages. I recorded the audio.”

Silence again. Then Mom’s voice trembled.

“Nora, listen to me. It wasn’t…”

“You took two children from me. Sophie killed my first child by running me down with her car.

Then, for four years, you made me raise another family’s child. You were all so at peace with yourselves while you pushed me out?”

“Nora…”

I ended the call.

My phone stayed silent all night.

The next morning, Ethan sent me a long message. The gist was:

Everyone had kept Leo’s identity from me for my own good. Since I couldn’t have children, they’d

found this solution. Sophie had donated her egg willingly, and I should thank her instead of making

a scene.

He added one more line.

“Leo wants to see you. Come to the hospital.”

I didn’t answer.

My attorney showed me the paperwork.

Over five years, Ethan had transferred $3.7 million out of our joint account. $2 million went into Sophie’s personal account, and $1.2 million went into another account under my mother’s name.

The actual person controlling that account was Sophie’s biological mother, Marlene Hart.

The transfer notes all said things like “household expenses,” “holiday money,” and “medical

reserve.”

These transfers came out of marital property. You have the right to recover the money.”

The attorney adjusted their glasses. “But we need clear evidence showing where the money went.

I’ve preserved all of it.”

“How long would a lawsuit take?”

“Three months if everything moves quickly, six if it doesn’t. If you go through with the divorce,

these transfers will be counted during the division of marital assets.”

I nodded and signed the power of attorney.

When I left the law office, my phone rang again. It was Mom.

“Nora, I’ve thought about this all night. Come home. There are things we need to say face–to–face.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll know when you get here. I made your favorite glazed ham.

I laughed.

I was allergic to eggs, and I hated sweet dishes. The one dish I’d never touched in my life was glazed

ham.

“Mom, who did you make it for? Sophie or Marlene?”

“Nora, don’t be like this. I’m getting old. I can’t take you putting me through this. If you’re

unhappy, tell me and I’ll change.”

“You don’t get to change. You made your choice five years ago. Why pretend to regret it now?”

I hung up.

At two that afternoon, Ryan sent me a photo.

Sophie was lying in a hospital bed with her arm wrapped in gauze. Leo was sprawled beside her, drawing, while Ethan sat next to them peeling an apple.

The caption read, “The whole family is here except you. Fine, don’t come. Sophie says she doesn’t blame you.”

I zoomed in on the picture.

Leo had drawn a family of three: himself, Sophie, and Ethan, holding hands. The crooked title read,

“My Mommy and Daddy.”

I closed the photo and messaged my attorney.

“Add one more clause to the divorce agreement. I waive custody of Leo.”

When I set my phone down, the wound at the back of my head throbbed.

Three days.

Three more days.