hout him had been h

trickled and then stopped completely. His calls became less frequent, then they ceas

fogging in the air. I took on extra work, mending clothes for people in town and selling jams and preserves at the local market. Mr. Johnson, despite his bad bac

d. Every dollar was counted, every expense debated. There were no new clothes, no movies, no small luxur

le, a tiny nest egg hidden away in a coffee can. The farm, which had been struggling, was now stable. It was ours, bought and

I remembered

led into the present, painting our hard-

ts breaking for the story he told. He claimed his startup had failed, that he'd been cheated by partners,

s all

ed another woman, Chloe. He lived a life of parties and expensive dinners while we were here freezing and starving. He only came

s "poor, country family," sell our assets

money. They didn't care that we were victims too. They took what they wanted. Mr. Johnson tried to stop them, and they beat him so badly he never walked

longer just a memory, it was a warning. A promise of what would happen if I let my guard down, if I all

g woman from my past life stood besi

l do i

d not