Georgia's POV

The only reason Jordan landed that director position at such a young age was because I pulled strings and begged my brother to push it through for him.

Jordan chased after me and blocked my path. “Georgia, don’t overreact, okay? My mom’s just got a sharp tongue, but she’s soft at heart. Don’t take her words too seriously.”

Hearing him protecting his mother, I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. “Soft at heart? Really? What does she think I am? Her personal ATM? A free babysitter?”

But then he started getting flustered. “No! It’s not like that. She just wants us to get married soon. And she thought having a baby around would help us practice, that’s all.”

I looked him straight in the eye and seriously asked, “And you? What do you think about all this?”

Jordan hesitated, then awkwardly and unsurely replied, “I… I mean… I think she kind of has a point…”

That was it. I was done.

This man never truly saw me. In his eyes, I was just an accessory to his family, a convenient woman to use.

“Jordan, let’s break up.”

His face dropped immediately upon hearing me say that.

“Georgia! Come on, don’t do this. We’ve been together for so long! You can’t just throw it all away over something so small!” he frantically said.

“Something small?” I stared at his panicked expression, bitterness welling up in my chest. “You know what? Doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t contact me again.”

As such, I walked right past him. As the elevator doors opened, I heard Mrs. Dawson screaming behind me.

“That little tramp! Thinks she’s something special?! Good riddance, saves me the headache of seeing her face!”

After leaving the postpartum center, I blocked Jordan’s number.

Still, that didn’t stop him. He kept calling me non-stop using different phone numbers, like a madman. But every time I’d hear his voice, I’d directly hang up.

It wasn’t until the twelfth call that I finally picked up, and his voice came through, choked with tears.

“Georgia, please. I’m begging you. My mom regrets everything. She booked a private dining room at the Le Luxe De La Mer just to apologize to you. You know how much I love you. We’ve been together for three years. Can’t you forgive me just this once?”

His voice cracked as he sobbed through the phone, and my heart softened just a little.

Maybe… maybe he really did feel sorry.

“Just an apology?” I asked, a bit doubtful.

“Yes! Just that. She promised no more talk about money,” he quickly confirmed.

I hesitated for a long time, but eventually gave in.

When I arrived at the Le Luxe De La Mer and stepped into the private dining room, I froze.

The room was packed.

At least a dozen people were there—every aunt, uncle, and cousin Jordan’s family had. And right at the head of the table was Ms. Dawson, smug as ever, cradling that baby like a trophy.

The moment she saw me, she stood up with a big fake smile plastered on her face and announced, “Everyone, this is my future daughter-in-law, Georgia! She even said she’s giving her little brother-in-law forty thousand dollars as a gift!”

What?!

I hadn’t even processed what she said when the relatives started crowding around me.

“Such a generous girl!”

“Eva, you’re so lucky with this one!”

“Youngsters really are thoughtful!”

Suddenly, one middle-aged woman in a loud floral blouse grabbed my hand and said, “Georgia, I heard from your mother-in-law that you’re also giving your condo near the school district for the baby to use when he grows up. That’s just so kind of you!”

Then another woman chimed in, “And since you’re clearly doing well financially, how about buying the kid a marital house too? You wouldn’t even notice the cost!”

Beaming, Mrs. Dawson remarked on the side, “Yesterday, she still tried to act all high and mighty. But clearly, she can’t stay away from my son.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let your kindness go unrewarded. Once my younger son outgrows his baby clothes, we’ll save them for you and Jordan’s baby. That’ll help you save some money,” she added, sounding generous.

Jordan, on the other hand, sat awkwardly beside me, forcing a smile as he kept putting food on my plate. While he wasn't saying a word, his eyes were pleading with me to just endure this.

Georgia's POV

Looking at that greedy crowd, I felt the anger in my chest rising like wildfire.

So this was Jordan’s idea of an apology?

He brought me here just to guilt-trip me in front of his whole family like I was some easy target he could manipulate.

Fed up, I set my knife and fork down and stood up.

“Everyone,” I said calmly, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Everything you’re talking about, I never agreed to any of it. I’m not gifting a cent, and I’m certainly not handing over anything that belongs to me.”

At that, the smile on Ms. Dawson’s face disappeared instantly. She slammed her glass to the ground and pointed at me, screeching, “How dare you play me like this?! You shameless woman! You’re going back on your word in front of all these people?!”

The relatives also quickly turned hostile.

“What kind of girl is this?”

“Doesn’t even keep her word!”

“Jordan, this is the girlfriend you brought home?”

Panicked, Jordan grabbed my arm and whispered, “Georgia, don’t make a scene. Everyone’s watching.”

But I yanked my arm away and let out a bitter laugh. “Jordan, I gave you the benefit of the doubt because of everything we’ve been through. But you brought me here for a setup. From now on, if you so much as come near me again, I’ll take back everything I’ve ever given you.”

With that, I turned and walked out.

That night, I had just finished showering and was getting ready for bed when the doorbell rang.

I peeked through the peephole and nearly lost it.

There was Mrs. Dawson at my doorstep, holding that baby in her arms. And behind her, Jordan stood awkwardly with a massive suitcase.

Despite seeing them, I didn’t respond. I had no intention of opening the door.

But the next sound made my blood run cold. I heard a key turning in the lock.

Damn it! I forgot to take back the spare key I once gave Jordan.

The door then swung open, and Mrs. Dawson strutted in like she owned the place.

She looked around and announced boldly, “Well, since you refused to pay for the postpartum center, I’ll just move in. You can take care of me during my recovery instead.”

Then she turned to Jordan and barked, “Go change the sheets in the master bedroom. Georgia can sleep on the couch tonight.”

I felt my blood pressure spike. “This is my home! Who do you think you are—"

Before I could finish, she marched straight into my bedroom.

She flung open my closet and started pulling out my designer bags and jewelry.

“These things are way too flashy. I’ll hold onto them for you.”

“Put that down!” I yelled as I rushed over to stop her, but Jordan grabbed my arm and held me back.

“Georgia,” he said softly, “we’re family now. Why make a big deal out of this?”

I was about to explode when I saw Mrs. Dawson walk over to my nightstand and pick up the framed photo of my late parents.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and commented, “Why would you keep this in the bedroom? It’s so unlucky!”

And then she moved like she was about to toss it into the trash can.

At that very moment, my vision went red.

“Don’t you dare!”

I ripped free from Jordan’s grip and lunged toward her, snatching the photo back.

Suddenly, she let out a dramatic wail and collapsed to the floor, still cradling the baby. “Help! She hit me! Jordan, you saw that, right?! She pushed me! I just gave birth, yet she attacked me while I was holding the baby!”

Before I could react, Jordan shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward.

I slammed into the corner of the wall, and pain shot through my back.

But he didn’t even look at me.

Instead, he crouched down beside his mother and worriedly asked, “Mom, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Mrs. Dawson groaned dramatically, clutching her waist. “My back… She pushed me so hard, I think it’s broken…”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll help you lie down and rest.”

Jordan helped her up gently, then turned to me with a cold expression.

“You should go stay somewhere else for a few days. We’ll talk after my mom calms down.”

Stunned at how far this had gone, I let out a dry laugh.

“Jordan,” I said flatly, “this is my house.”

Georgia's POV

But I didn’t expect that saying that would set Jordan off.

His eyes burned red with rage as he screamed at me, “Georgia! Are you trying to drive my mother to her grave?! Why can’t you just be a little more understanding?!”

Staring at this shameless mother-son duo who barged into my home like they owned it, I let out a cold laugh. “This is my house. If anyone needs to leave, it’s you two.”

I then pulled out my phone and started dialing the police.

But Jordan’s face twisted in anger. In a flash, he lunged at me, snatched the phone out of my hand, and slammed it to the floor.

Not satisfied, he also slapped me across the face, hard.

A searing pain spread across my cheek as it started to swell.

“Jordan, you dare hit me?” I asked, stunned.

“And what if I did?” he snapped. “You’ve been treating my mom like this right after she gave birth!”

He then raised his hand again and slapped me even harder, causing me to taste blood in my mouth.

Behind him, Mrs. Dawson clutched the baby and sneered, “You ungrateful tramp. How much of my son’s money have you spent over the years? Now we ask for one apartment, and you throw a fit? I’ll tell you now. This house and everything in it belong to us from now on. You’re not getting a thing!”

Then she gave Jordan a look, and he understood immediately. Without a word, he grabbed my arms and started dragging me toward the door.

I struggled with everything I had. “Let go of me! This is my home!”

But he shoved me right out the door.

“This is your home?” he scoffed. “Once you figure out how to be a proper daughter-in-law, then maybe it’ll be your home again.”

And just like that, the door slammed shut behind me.

I stood there in shock, barefoot in thin loungewear and slippers, locked out of my own apartment.

From inside, I heard Mrs. Dawson’s triumphant laughter.

“Let’s see how tough she acts now! This place is ours!”

“Jordan,” she continued gleefully, “go see what else in here is worth money. We’ll sell it all tomorrow! Those name-brand bags alone should fetch a pretty penny.”

I leaned against the wall, trembling.

Not from the cold, but from pure rage.

I thought back to when I first started dating Jordan. My brother didn’t like him. But I’d defended Jordan with everything I had. I guaranteed my brother that Jordan was worth investing in. I was the reason he started mentoring him, the reason he landed that director position.

And now that I had given everything, they had betrayed me like this.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

I had no phone. No money. And it was already late. There was no one around whom I could ask for help.

Just then, I remembered that an old retired professor lived downstairs, with whom I had a good relationship.

Without hesitation, I ran down and knocked on his door.

When he opened it and saw me, he frowned with concern. “Georgia? What are you doing out so late?”

But then he caught sight of the red handprint on my face and his expression darkened.

“What happened to you?” he asked sharply. “Come in, quickly. It’s cold out there.”

But I shook my head, too exhausted to explain.

Instead, I directly asked, “Goodwin, could I borrow your phone for a moment?”

“Of course,” he answered and handed me his phone.

Without even thinking, I dialed the number I knew by heart.

Then a deep voice answered, “Hello?”

And the moment I heard it, my tears came pouring out.

“Lonnie… Jordan kicked me out of my own house,” I told on.

Just for a second, there was silence on the other end. Then his voice came again, low and furious, “Don’t be scared, Georgia. My people will be there in five minutes.”