Chapter 9 - Fractured Alliances
Judith sat on the sofa, her face burning with humiliation as her private text exchanges were projected six feet wide for the entire family to read.
Nolan, Grant’s brother, looked sickened. He had been one of the people whispering in Grant’s ear for months, feeding off the rumors Judith had laundered from Patrice. He turned his head away from the screen, unable to meet my eyes.
“You used me,” Judith whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and wounded pride. She slowly stood up from the sofa, pointing a manicured, trembling finger at Patrice. “You pathetic, thieving parasite. You used me to tear my son’s marriage apart!”
“Oh, don’t play the innocent victim, Judith!” Patrice suddenly snarled, her cornered fear transforming into pure, venomous spite. She threw her hands in the air, laughing bitterly. “You jumped at those texts! You hated that Grant married Nora from the second he brought her home! You wanted an excuse to get rid of her because you think your family is blue-blood royalty and Nora was just a public school teacher’s kid!”
Judith gasped as if she had been slapped across the face. “That is a lie!”
“It’s not a lie and you know it!” Patrice screamed, her composure entirely shattered. “You called me twice a week asking if I’d heard anything else about David! You practically begged me to find proof of infidelity because you were too much of a coward to demand a DNA test yourself! You wanted me to do your dirty work so Grant wouldn't hate you!”
Grant walked slowly from the door toward his mother. His face was entirely devoid of color, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his cheeks bulged.
“Is that true?” Grant asked Judith, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Grant, sweetheart, she’s deranged—”
“Did you ask her for proof?” Grant demanded, his voice cracking with agony. “Did you encourage her to dig up dirt on my wife?”
Judith looked at her son, then looked down at the carpet. Her silence was a louder confession than any scream.
Grant let out a hollow, shuddering breath. He looked over at Nolan, who immediately put his head in his hands, completely ashamed.
“Get out,” Grant whispered to his mother.
Judith looked up, shocked. “Grant—”
“Take Nolan and get out of this house,” Grant said, tears finally cutting down his cheeks. “You don’t call me. You don’t come to our house. You don’t ask about Rowan. You spent a year trying to destroy my family because you couldn't stand that I chose Nora over your control. You are dead to me, Mother.”
Judith began to sob, but Grant didn't move an inch. He turned his back on her, walking directly over to where I stood beside the projector. Nolan stood up, grabbed his mother by the elbow, and guided her silently out the front door, Judith’s muffled cries echoing down the porch steps.
Only Patrice, Uncle Richard, my father, Grant, and I remained in the room.
May you like
Patrice watched Judith leave, her chest heaving, realizing that every single bridge she had built, every alliance she had manipulated, had been incinerated in less than fifteen minutes.
“Arthur,” Patrice whispered, her voice suddenly shrinking back into the pleading tone of a frightened child. “Arthur, please. If you go to the police, Richard will lose the house. My boys will be ruined. We’ll lose everything.”
