“You can’t just… this is theft!”
“Is it?” I inclined my head. “Because I’m pretty sure forcing a 15-year-old with a fractured shoulder to babysit while you go bar-hopping is child endangerment. Should we call the police and compare charges? I’ll wait.”
“You can earn them back.”
Lydia’s mouth unclosed and secured like a tank fish.
“What do I have to do?” she ultimately murmured softly.
I smirked. “You’re going to take care of this house. And those twins. And Olivia. Without complaining. Without delegating. Without disappearing for ‘me time.’”
“For how long?”
“Four days. The same amount of time Scott’s gone. If you can manage that, you get your things back.”
“What do I have to do?”
She appeared as though she desired to dispute, but she was outmatched.
She presumed the retribution would be resonant.
