Chapter 7 - The Desperate Plea
Before we could digest the sheer scale of the fraud, the brass knocker on the front door downstairs sounded violently. Heavy, rhythmic pounding echoed through the brownstone.
Arthur’s housekeeper, Maria, hurried up the stairs, her face pale. "Mr. Stone, it’s Margaret and Richard. They are demanding to see Emma. They won't leave the porch."
"Let them up," Arthur said calmly, leaning back into his armchair. "It's time to finish this."
Mom burst into the study moments later, her designer gown rumpled, her makeup smeared with angry, frantic streaks of mascara. Dad trailed behind her like a condemned man, his tie shoved into his coat pocket.
"Emma!" Mom cried, rushing forward, her hands outstretched in an exaggerated display of maternal agony. "Thank God you’re here. We need to fix this. We need to issue a statement immediately. We can tell the press that Arthur was confused, that the envelope was a rehearsal prop gone wrong—"
"Shut up, Margaret," Daniel snapped, stepping firmly between her and me.
Mom glared at Daniel. "This is a family matter, Daniel! You aren't married to her yet, so you have no right—"
"He has every right," I said, stepping around Daniel to confront her directly. "Because he loves me. Something you haven't felt for me a single day of my life."
Mom paused, her chest heaving. "How can you say that? I gave you everything! I clothed you, I put a roof over your head—"
"You stole seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars from me when I was eighteen years old!" I shouted, the dam finally breaking. Tears spilled down my cheeks, but they weren't tears of sorrow; they were tears of raw, incandescent rage. "You watched me work night shifts until I collapsed from exhaustion! You watched me beg for help with my textbooks! You took my inheritance and bought sports cars for Paige and Lauren, and you told me to my face that I was your greatest regret because I didn't worship you!"
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"You were difficult!" Mom shrieked back, losing all control. "From the day you were born, you looked at me like you knew every flaw I had! You were just like Evelyn—cold, judgmental, always auditing my life! You didn't need the money, Emma! You were always so damn strong! Your sisters needed help. They couldn't survive on their own!"
"So you crippled them with luxury and starved me out of spite," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You didn't hate me because I was weak, Margaret. You hated me because you couldn't control me."
