Chapter 7 - Brenda’s Ambush
I knew Brenda wouldn't take the hit lying down. Brenda was a parasite who had survived her entire adult life by bullying weaker people into submission.
When I left Marcus’s office building at four o'clock, she was waiting by the parking garage elevators.
How she found me wasn't a mystery; she had called my firm's receptionist claiming to be my sister delivering an emergency medical message, and the naive intern had mentioned I was meeting counsel downtown.
Brenda marched toward me, her face flushed red beneath heavy foundation, her designer sunglasses pushed up into her bleached hair.
"You think you’re so smart, don't you?" she hissed, blocking my path to my car.
I stopped three paces back, keeping my hand near my phone in my coat pocket. "Step away from me, Brenda."
"You ruined Tyler’s life today!" she spat, spit flying from her lip. "He had to walk home from the bus stop because my car was taken! My son! Because you couldn't handle Thomas telling you the truth about what a cold, sterile wife you are!"
"Your son had to walk because his mother is an unemployed thief who spends her child support on microblading," I replied smoothly.
Brenda lunged forward, her hand raised, but I didn't flinch. I stepped sideways, pulling my phone out with the screen glowing: *Recording Active.*
"Go ahead," I said, my voice cutting through the garage air. "Assault a pregnant woman in front of three security cameras. Let's see how the family court judge likes that when I request an immediate restraining order against you."
Brenda halted, her chest heaving. Her eyes darted to the ceiling cameras, then down to my stomach.
"You’re lying about that baby," she sneered, though the tremor in her voice gave away her terror. "You bought that sonogram online to keep Thomas on your leash. But it won't work. I'm his blood. Joanne is his blood. You're just a stranger who bought her way into this family."
"Then you should have no problem paying your own bills, blood." I stepped around her. "By the way, did Thomas tell you about the check?"
Brenda stiffened. The color drained from her cheeks until her face matched her bleached hair.
"What check?" she whispered.
"The five-thousand-dollar draft from First Heritage Bank. Dated October 14th. The one you signed with my initials." I opened my car door and looked back at her over my shoulder. "Marcus Reynolds has the high-definition video of you wearing that ridiculous faux-fur jacket at the drive-thru window. The statute of limitations gives me another two years. Sleep well tonight, Brenda."
May you like
I got inside, locked the doors, and drove away, watching her figure shrink in the rearview mirror until she was nothing more than a pathetic pink smudge against the concrete.
***
