George's face darkened immediately.

Evelyn looked shocked, her eyes brimming with tears as she clung to George. "George, Whitney's really scary. Did she get the wrong idea about us?

George, if Whitney doesn't want us here, I'll take Jacob and leave. We won't trouble you. Just let me and Jacob fend for ourselves out there."

Jacob glared at me, yelling, "You're so mean to my mom. How dare you?"

George immediately turned to Evelyn with concern, soothing her, "Evelyn, don't worry. I promised to take care of you, and I will."

Then he turned to me, his anger flaring. "Whitney, what's wrong with you? Evelyn and Jacob are already having a tough time. Why are you being so cruel to her?

Plus, this is my house. I decide who stays.

Just sort out their bags. There's a silk bedding set for Evelyn. She has delicate skin and is prone to allergies."

I found his words ridiculous.

Patrick had allergies too, but George had never shown him such care in all the years we were together.

Poor Patrick. He spent his whole life loving a father who not only didn't love him back but actively harmed him.

I stood still, my face set in a cold expression.

George's face grew even darker. "Whitney, what are you playing at?"

Evelyn sneered at me, her voice condescending, "A wife should listen to her husband. George, your wife is over the top. She's not showing you any respect.

If it were me, I'd have done whatever my husband asked without a second thought."

Jacob snorted. "Exactly. She's nowhere near as good as you, mom."

George, his face red with anger, barked, "Whitney, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf? Move it, or you'll regret it."

I stared back at him, a mix of rage and despair in my eyes. "How will you make me regret it? Today, there's no way you're taking over my son's room!"

George slapped me hard across the face. "Whitney, you really don't know when to quit. What use do I have for a wife who won't listen?"

Evelyn smirked with satisfaction. "That's right, George. A man has to assert himself. We're just friends, nothing more. But look at her, getting all jealous. It's pathetic."

"Absolutely, Mr. Lynch, she deserves it. You're a real man," Jacob chimed in.

George, smirking at the compliments, scoffed.

He then scoffed, "Whitney, I thought you'd treat Evelyn better, try to get along. But no, you had to get all jealous. You're ugly when you're jealous. And you thought you could threaten me with divorce, huh?

You think I'm scared?

Alright, you won't move? I'll get Jacob's room ready myself!"

George barged into Patrick's room.

I panicked and rushed after him, but Jacob grabbed me.

"Let go of me! Let go!" I screamed. "George, don't you dare touch Patrick's stuff!"

I fought hard, but Jacob pinned me down, grinning maliciously.

Evelyn kicked me hard in the back, sending me sprawling to the floor, gasping from the pain.

"Mr. Lynch, there are too many books in here. Let's ditch them. You know I hate reading," Jacob directed.

"Okay, if you don't like them, they're gone," George said, chuckling as he threw Patrick's books from the shelves and desk onto the floor.

My eyes flared with anger. "George, are you a beast? Those are Patrick's books. They hold all our memories."

I had spent countless nights in this room tutoring Patrick.

Every book held memories of Patrick and me. George was tossing them aside like trash.

George shot me a disgusted look. "Are you nuts? Patrick's just doing a few years in jail. What's with all this sentimental talk about memories?"

I collapsed inside. George was a father in name only, utterly unaware that Patrick was already dead.

"Mr. Lynch, I like the model airplane on the desk. Keep it for me. But what's that white container? It looks creepy. Reminds me of something from a horror movie.

Man, is she trying to pull some creepy ritual in here, trying to curse us or something?" Jacob said, pointing at Patrick's urn with a frown.

Evelyn exclaimed, "What? Really? That's too creepy."

George glanced at me, then reached for Patrick's urn.

I caught my breath, struggling to get up.

"George, put it down! Don't touch it. That's Patrick's ashes!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

But George's face only twisted further at my words. "Look at you, Whitney. You're freaking out. There's definitely something off with this container.

You're really evil, you know? It's not enough for you to use witchcraft to harm Evelyn and Jacob, huh? And now you've made up this twisted story about cursing Patrick.

Let me see what's actually inside this."

With that, he moved to open the urn.

Jacob peered inside. "Shit, it's just white ash, must be some kind of curse."

Evelyn shrank back, her face a picture of terror. "George, please get rid of it. It's scaring me."

George quickly soothed her, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it right now."

He grabbed the urn and headed to the bathroom.

I screamed, "George, you can't do this! That's Patrick's ashes. It's all we have left of him. You can't just dispose of it."

Despite my struggles, I couldn't break free from Jacob's grip.

Taking advantage, Evelyn repeatedly jabbed me with her high heels, each stab sending shocks of pain through my body.

Helplessly, I watched as George dumped my son Patrick's ashes into the toilet.

After flushing, George turned to me with a smirk. "Whitney, you think you can use witchcraft to harm Evelyn? And lie that this was Patrick's ashes? Come on, I won't fall for that."

I collapsed, weeping on the floor. "Patrick, I'm so sorry. I failed to protect you in life, and now I can't even protect your ashes."

In a rage, George smashed the urn to the ground.

He snapped, "Enough, Whitney. Who's the audience for this act? You're just a jealous woman trying to drive Evelyn and Jacob away. To do that, you're cursing Patrick all along.

Patrick was cursed to have you as a mother!"

Just then, George's mother Katherine burst into the room.

She saw the ashes by the toilet and the shattered urn, her eyes filling with tears. She slapped George hard across the face.

"Mom, what are you doing?" George asked, confused.

Katherine cried out in agony, "You monster. How could I have raised someone like you? You flushed your own son's ashes down the toilet. My God!"

George went pale, staring at Katherine in disbelief.