Ch. Broken 3 Broken 3

03 

“Got the divorce agreement? Want me to help you move out?” 

Hearing I was moving out, Micah Yip asked: 

“No need. Just take good care of Joey at home and get the marriage certificate ready.” 

Micah Yip’s voice came through, laced with amusement. 

“Yes, Mrs. Yip. Next month is Joey’s kindergarten parent–child activity, and there’s an arts and 

crafts project too. Come quickly and save your poor father and son.” 

The phone clicked off, and Sebastian Gresham just happened to walk out of the room, his 

eyes narrowed at me. 

“Yip? You were on the phone with Micah Yip?” 

My expression didn’t even flicker as I packed the last of my clothes into the suitcase. 

Sebastian immediately backtracked. 

“That guy’s too proud to just call anyone. Lots to carry, let me take you.” 

He picked up the suitcase, but a shriek echoed from upstairs. 

Sebastian Gresham dropped me like a hot potato and rushed upstairs, the shriek dissolving 

into peals of laughter. 

“Sebastian, you finally showed up! Weren’t we supposed to have an epic showdown? You 

took so long, Felicity and I already won.” 

Felicity Gresham cheered, “Lydia’s so awesome, I wish she was my mom!” 

Upstairs, the atmosphere was all warm and happy, like they were the perfect family. 

Sebastian Gresham never bothered coming down again. 

Dragging my suitcase past the living room, I spotted a fancy gift on the table. The little card read, “To my dearest mother, thanks for everything!” 

her. 

My iron resolve flickered. 

I might be dead set on ditching Sebastian Gresham, but Felicity Gresham is my only kid. 

When Felicity Gresham was three, Lydia tossed her way up in the air… and then didn’t catch 

I rushed over without hesitation and ended up in the emergency room. 

There was a time when she was more important to him than I was. 

It was a letter, and I slowly opened it, like unwrapping a stolen moment of happiness. 

“Dear Mom, I wish I could call you that. I’ve always wished I’d been born from your womb. 

Now Dad says I can finally call you Mom. Thank you for being there for Dad and me all this time.” 

I stared at that sickeningly sincere letter, my blood turning to ice. 

“You thief!” 

D 

Suddenly shoved from behind with great force, Felicity Gresham looked at me like I was the 

worst kind of criminal. 

“Why did you touch the letter I was giving to Lydia! It was supposed to be a surprise for her, 

4:54 pm DDDD 

to my eyes, and I was too stunned to defend myself. 

“Sorry, I thought your mom was me.” 

Felicity Gresham snatched what I hadn’t dared pack in my suitcase, the thing I was carefully cradling, and held it high above her head. 

“Didn’t you used to lecture me that everyone has to pay the price for their actions? You ruined my surprise, so I’m going to ruin the thing that’s most important to you!” 

My breath caught in my throat. 

“No way! That’s the only thing your Grandpa left me!” 

Towards the end, he couldn’t even hold a pen, but he still tried to mold weird little clay 

figures, just like he used to when I was a kid to cheer me up. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” 

Felicity Gresham, as if deaf, violently smashed the weird little clay figure onto the ground. 

“Now you’ve paid the price, too. Apologize to me, and I’ll forgive you.” 

The clay shattered into pieces, and my heart seemed to stop then and there, aching so 

badly I couldn’t breathe. 

Lydia Hunt comforted Felicity Gresham and blamed me for it. 

““Even though Felicity is just a kid, how could you just go through her things like that? You have no respect for her privacy.” 

Hearing that, Felicity’s crying intensified. 

Sebastian Gresham helped me up. “You were in the wrong to begin with. How about this: you apologize to Felicity and then help her write a letter. It’s nothing, let’s just drop it.” 

My hands trembled as I picked up the shards from the floor, and I numbly grabbed a pen. I’d been too heartbroken to read past the first paragraph of that letter, but now I was being 

forced to read it word by word. 

I was forced to wallow in her admiration for Lydia Hunt, the love dripping from every line, and then, in her voice, write it all down, sentence by sentence, to create a new letter. 

Even the last shred of affection in my heart has been completely worn away.