Page 134 of Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

“Doctor’s orders? I haven’t been able to see my husband in two days! Two days! This has to be a misunderstanding,” I hear my mother yell from all the way across the hall. I turn the corner and a highly satisfying scene comes into view.

“I’m afraid it’s not. Your husband specifically said he doesn’t want to see you, and we respect our patients’ wishes.” The poor nurse glances around in hope of catching the eye of a coworker who could possibly swoop in and save her from my psycho mother.

“My husband would’ve never said that!” Lauren shakes her head in disbelief. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Bring me someone with a brain. Right now!”

Sitting with his head buried in his hands, Jaden eyes the floor and impatiently waits for this moment to be over. My dad made the decision of letting Jay hear the recording. He said he was old enough and deserved to know. We made him promise not to tell Lauren about my father’s plans to divorce her just yet.

When he looks up and sees me, he rises from his seat and walks over to me with a “Thank God.” I give him a quick hug, which attracts my mother’s attention.

“They won’t let me see him! What the hell is this? Did he tell you anything?” She strides to me.

“I’m sorry, Mother, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say calmly.

Light bulbs blink in her eyes.

“You. You did this. Your moron of a boyfriend told him something, didn’t he? He fed your father a bunch of lies.”

“A bunch of lies?” I feign confusion. “We didn’t feed him anything.” The fire in her stare decreases. Until I hit her with the cold hard facts. “We showed him.”

Her face decomposes.

“Isn’t technology amazing? With just the touch of a finger, you can record anything these days.” I’ve never been so cruel to my mother in my whole life. For the first time, I’m treating her the way she’s always treated me. “Now I don’t think I have to tell you what this means. He knows everything. He knows about the affair, he knows you never loved him, and he knows you’re an awful mother. Well, guess what, dear Mom? He’s divorcing you.”

That’s her snapping point.

She slaps me so hard tears fall on cue. A wave of gasps runs around the room. This slap contained years of hatred. She couldn’t do it before, but now that she’s lost everything—or if she hasn’t yet, she will soon—she’s finally revealing her true colors.

“You psychopath,” Jay shouts. The pain is there, but it seems sheer compared to the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

“You fucking brat. How dare you?” she spits through gritted teeth. “I could’ve given you up. I would’ve if it wasn’t for Harry coming in at the right time. The only person who ever wanted you was that stupid boyfriend of yours. Oh no, wait, he also realized how worthless you were in the end, didn’t he?”

My confidence deflates. She’s not wrong though.

“You should probably empty your stuff from the house.” I fling my arm around Jay’s shoulder, and her fists roll into white-knuckled balls.

“You can’t do that. You have no right to kick me out!”

“Oh, I know I have no right to kick you, but Dad can. And everything’s in his name.” I attempt to ignore the burning of my cheek. A security guard who witnessed the scene decides now is a good time to get involved.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re going to have to ask you to leave,” he tells her. Dude, you couldn’t do that before I got slapped?

Infuriated, yet helpless, Laure glares at me one last time and rushes toward the exit. Sure, this isn’t over. My father has to file for full custody of Maika, and the process might take years, but with the recording, we may stand a chance. Nothing is going my way these days: Haze’s left me again, I don’t have the slightest idea of what I want to do with the rest of my life, but this is the one thing no one can ever take away from me. In the evil mother department?

I won.

HAZE

Delivering a truck full of cocaine to a warehouse in a ghost town. Not exactly my idea of a fun night. “Be at this address at ten. We’ll have a truck waiting for you.” This is the last thing their new errand boy said to me. They didn’t even have the decency to tell me who I’d meet there, who I’m delivering to. Told me the strict minimum and sent me on my way.

One thing’s certain: we’re far from delivering weed to low lives. A full truck? This could be prison for me. But I don’t have a choice. Go big or go home, they said.

How ironic that I’m doing this specifically to go home.

To her.

To the love of my goddamn life.

The instructions were clear: deliver the merchandise to destination, don’t get caught, and get the hell out of there. I can’t help thinking that this sounds too easy. There’s a reason they called it my “final” job. A reason they’re willing to let me go if I make it out alive. Something bad is waiting for me down this path, I’m sure of it, yet, here I am, driving toward disaster.