Chapter 4 - The Mother-in-Law’s Mask
Patricia lunged at me.
She was seventy-one years old, but fury gave her a sudden, vicious speed. Her manicured nails aimed straight for my eyes. "You ungrateful, treacherous bitch! After everything we gave you! We welcomed you into this family when you had nobody! You ruined my boys!"
I caught her wrist mid-air.
For seven years, I had bowed my head. When she criticized my cooking, my clothes, my inability to conceive during our third year, I had kept silent to keep the peace. When she demanded monthly allowances from Grant that I knew we couldn't afford, I smiled and tightened our household budget.
Not tonight.
I twisted her wrist just firmly enough to stop her momentum, forcing her down onto the one upright armchair in the corner. She gasped in shock, clutching her arm.
"You welcomed my inheritance, Patricia," I hissed, leaning down so only she could hear the razor edge in my whisper. "You welcomed the two hundred thousand dollars of my money that renovated this very kitchen. You welcomed the emerald necklace around your neck right now—the one Grant bought with Vanessa’s stolen credit card."
Patricia’s hand flew to her throat, her fingers desperately concealing the shimmering green pendant.
"Did you really think I didn't know?" I asked, straightening up to address the whole room. "Did you think I was blind when you kept Grant's second phone in your jewelry box? Did you think I didn't notice you hosting Vanessa for Sunday brunch every time you sent me out of town to visit my sick aunt?"
Vanessa shrank back against the wall, avoiding my eyes.
"She told me you were sterile," Vanessa muttered, her voice trembling. "She told me Grant stayed with you out of pity because your family was dead."
Ethan sneered, throwing the folder back onto the table. "Look at them. A den of thieves and leeches."
Outside, the faint wail of sirens began to echo through the quiet suburban streets.
Grant’s head snapped toward the window. Hope flickered in his bloodshot eyes. "The police! Mom, did you call them?"
"I didn't call them," Patricia stammered, looking bewildered. "I was trying to keep Nora from making a scene!"
"I didn't call them either," Dylan moaned from under the table.
Ethan smiled—a cold, terrifying baring of teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, which had been connected to a live call the entire time.
May you like
"I didn't call the county sheriff," Ethan said calmly. "I called the Federal Bureau of Investigation, White Collar Crimes Division. Special Agent Miller is an old friend from my military days. I told him I had caught two corporate embezzlers and their conspirators red-handed with the physical ledgers."
Grant let out a sound that wasn't human—a broken, strangled whine of utter ruin.
