I’m staring at the paper in my hand while tears well up in my eyes. Hours after the Montenegros sent me away, a protection order is delivered straight to my hospital room. I smirk at the thought of how extreme wealth can make a person ridiculously influential. With vexation smothering my entire being, I crumple the piece of paper and aggressively toss it to the floor before slumping my body on the bed and muffling myself with the blanket. My mother tries to comfort me by kneading her palm on my head.
“Take it easy. Don’t think about it too much,” she says. “I’m sure once Chaz wakes up, he won’t allow his parents to do this to you.”
“You’re right,” I murmur then I angle my gaze towards her. “Ma, I’m sorry I made you worried. I didn’t listen to you. I couldn’t help it. Just wanted to see
