Chapter 5 - A Son's Regret
Brandon’s face contorted into utter disbelief. "No. No, that's a lie. You’re lying to turn me against her. Tiffany’s family has a home in the Hamptons!"
"The Hamptons house was sold at auction in November," I stated calmly, pulling a folded legal document from my purse and handing it to him. "Your father taught me never to invest in a business without reviewing the audited financials. When you asked me to buy into the Vance family fund, I hired a private investigator."
Brandon looked down at the court filings in his hands, his eyes darting across foreclosure notices, tax liens, and unpaid judgment orders bearing Richard Vance's signature. His hands began to shake violently.
"They were drowning," I continued, "and you offered them my life raft. Did Tiffany love you, Brandon? Or did she love the five-hundred-thousand-dollar wedding budget she convinced you I would pay for?"
Down in the lobby, the shouting grew louder.
"Let go of me!" Tiffany’s voice screeched, echoing up the stairwell. "Do you know who my family is?! You cannot throw us out! We have the penthouse suite booked until Tuesday!"
"Miss Vance," Julian’s voice replied with cold precision over the lobby intercom, "the penthouse suite was booked under Eleanor Bennett’s credit card. She cancelled that reservation forty minutes ago. Your personal luggage has been moved to the front portico. If you do not exit the building immediately, local law enforcement will escort you off the grounds."
Brandon dropped the papers. They fluttered down the marble staircase, scattering across the empty steps like fallen leaves.
He took a step toward me, his knees buckling as he sank onto the carpeted landing. "Mom... please. Please don't do this. If you cut us off, I lose the apartment. I lose my car. Tiffany will leave me. I’ll have nothing."
"You had a mother," I said, feeling no anger, only a profound, hollow stillness. "You had a family that loved you without requiring a price tag. But you traded that for an illusion. You allowed that girl to treat me like a servant, and tonight, you allowed her to put hands on me."
"I'm sorry," he choked out, real tears finally spilling over his eyelids. "Mom, I'm sorry. I was afraid. I didn't know what to do!"
"You knew what to do," I told him, looking down at his kneeling form. "A man defends his mother. A man defends basic human decency. You chose your side, Brandon. Now you must live on that side."
I turned my back on him and walked toward the private service elevator reserved for estate staff.
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"Mom!" he screamed, his voice breaking into a ragged sob. "Mom, don't leave me here! Mom!"
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped inside, pressed the button for the underground parking garage, and watched the brass doors close between us, shutting out the desperate cries of the boy I no longer recognized.
