I had no doubt that my mother had intended to remind me who was boss, who still owned me. That alone made me want to fight back. Maybe this time I’d win. She’d told me that as I’d left to live with my father. I was meant to pay one of the visits the court had ordered, but I never came back. Once I’d told my father what my mother’s friends had done, he called her and told her he knew, threatening to expose them if she didn’t agree to let him keep me. She didn’t care enough to fight him. Thank fuck. At eleven I was already stronger and taller than most boys of my age, so I was outgrowing my novelty value. So she showed up last night to force me into compliance. Maybe she wanted me back, now I had value as a social asset. She lived in her own world, made her own rules. How could she ever imagine something like that? After the play she’d sent texts. I ignored them, and didn’t tell Cassie. She might have murdered my mother in her bed. Judging by the fury in my lover’s eyes when I confessed my secret, she might well have done that.
