Page 213 of Wrong Pucking Player

It was a conservatorship that was signed to end when I reached twenty-five, in which all control and access would be returned to me with no questions or court sessions.

Lovely.

Wyatt and Armani were in the car when I read the news to them, and boy, neither of them was pleased.

Like at all.

“I mean, how do you accept the fact you were never adopted? That instead of being taken into a family who publicly states they want to ease your turmoil, you were just thrown into an agreement that allowed another person to benefit from you in all financial departments. All while ensuring they reaped all the benefits that came their way throughout your childhood and young adulthood.”

At least, when you’re an orphan, you can justify being abandoned by blissful ignorance.

When you’re “told” you’ve been adopted and used for twenty years, it feels like a shot to the heart.

“A-At the time, no one would take you in!” she argues as if that was my fault. “You’re lucky I even brought you into my home.”

“Lucky? In what way?” I actually laugh at that. “A home where you abused me any way you could? You didn’t get far with physical abuse because those left marks that could have gotten you arrested and put in jail, but do you believe the way you raised me should be deemed a blessing because I had a roof over my head? No one forced you to attempt to do an act of kindness that would make you appear like a saint to the rest of the community. Just admit you took me off the streets so you could milk off my existence to raise the children and people you deem as your actual family. Those children who share your blood.”

“Look how ungrateful you’re acting! You wouldn’t be the woman you are without me!”

“Really?” That’s the funniest shit I’ve heard. “You not once helped me out in any department of life. Everything has always been a bargain. Do this, and I’ll give you that. Come to this, only if I get that. An exchange of resources that always benefited you, while I simply sought a parental figure who would at least try to act like they wanted me in their life. Do you think because I didn’t say shit, I was oblivious to your actions? That I would never call you out for it?”

She’s trying to search for a comeback, but I don’t have the time or energy to entertain this anymore.

I’m tired of being a pushover.

“From today onward, don’t call this phone line. Any future discussions can be spoken with my lawyer, who will be reaching out to you late this afternoon.”

“Wh-What?!” she gasps. “You can’t afford a lawyer!”

“You’re right,” I agree. “However, one of my boyfriends is a doctor with a few connections in the legal department who’d happily take this case, especially with the lengthy confirmation that many crimes of abuse and manipulation started when I was well underage. Meaning it goes under the act of child abuse. I also have another boyfriend who has some connections with the police department. It would be a shame for you to be arrested and your children to be given to CPS. Plus, with another baby on the way, it would only be more of a pity for that child to be born while you’re in jail.”

“Y-You’re threatening me?”No shit, genius.“When the town hears about this… wait. Did you just say you had two boyfriends?”

“I can see where your priorities lie,” I mutter and sigh as I use one of the sheets of paper to be a visor to shield me from the sun’s glaring rays. “I believe the least of the town’s worries revolves around my love life. However, I’m pretty sure you’ll make a lovely headline. The Auntie From Hell. Strattonville’s Once Beloved Neighbor to Manipulative Child Abuser. I’d love for your family and friends to read the article that would be written around the revealing news.”

“Th-They won’t believe you! I’ve spent years building my reputation.”

“Good.” That’s even better. “You can enjoy watching it crumble down in seconds.”

“You have no power to do this!” she emphasizes. “No grounding whatsoever. All I have to do is call the Housing Hotline and inform them that you’ve been hiding money elsewhere, and you’ll be homeless by the end of the day!”

“A good thing my brother is good friends with the Government Housing CEO.” I’m stunned to hear Armani’s deep voice on the other side of the line.

“What?” I begin and am immediately scanning the crowd of players on the track, only to see Armani standing next to Wyatt. “Armani? How are you in two places at once?”

He glances up to see me peering down at them from the benches. Shifting his gait reveals he’s holding a phone to his ear.

“Three-way phone calls are so helpful in tricky situations like these,” he admits with a hint of amusement in his voice.

No pucking way.

“What’s the meaning of th—” My aunt screams but is cut off by the loud banging from the other end.

“Strattonville Police!! Open the door, or we will take the initiative to break it down!”

Cries from younger children ignite in seconds before a male’s voice shouts.

“Beverly? Why is the house surrounded by police? All the neighbors are watching.”

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