Chapter 6 - Twenty Minutes
The kitchen descended into a heavy, suffocating panic. The family dynamic that had tormented me for three long years had shattered into jagged pieces in less than twenty minutes.
"Allison, baby, please," Scott whispered, dropping to his knees beside the island. He reached out, trying to grab the hem of my jeans. "Please don't do this. We can fix this. I'll get a job tomorrow. I'll work two jobs! I'll pay back the twelve thousand dollars. I’ll make Brooke return every cent! Just don't call the police on Mom. Don't press charges against me. You love me, Allison. We took vows."
I looked down at him. For three years, I had loved this man. I had excused his insecurity, tolerated his mother’s sneers, paid his bills, and carried the weight of our entire domestic life on my shoulders, all because I thought a marriage required endless sacrifice.
Looking at him now, groveling on the floor of a house he tried to steal, I felt nothing. No anger. No sadness. Just a profound, liberating emptiness.
"You broke those vows the day you decided your mother’s comfort was worth more than my dignity, Scott," I said softly, stepping out of his reach. "And you obliterated them when you forged my signature."
"Allison—"
"You have twenty minutes," I announced, turning to Brooke, Diane, and Scott.
Diane blinked, still reeling. "Twenty minutes for what?"
"Twenty minutes to take whatever personal belongings you brought into this house and get off my property," I said. "Brooke, go to your car. Drive away before I include your name on the police report regarding that twelve-thousand-dollar transfer."
Brooke didn't hesitate. She didn't look at her mother, and she didn't look at her brother. She spun on her designer heels, threw the kitchen door open, sprinted down the driveway, and within thirty seconds, her SUV tires squealed against the asphalt as she sped away into the evening light.
"Brooke! Brooke, you bring that car back here!" Diane wailed out the open door, watching her daughter abandon her without a second thought.
"She’s gone, Diane," I said, checking my wristwatch. "Now it's your turn. Scott, get your mother's coat and her purse. If either of you is still standing inside my front door at six-fifteen, I dial 911. I will hand the responding officers the assault footage, the title deed, and the loan fraud paperwork."
"Where am I supposed to go?" Diane cried, turning to her son with tears of panic streaming down her rouged cheeks. "Scott, where are we going to sleep? I canceled my apartment lease three months ago because you told me I was moving into the guest suite here next week!"
I froze, turning my head slowly back toward Scott. "Excuse me?"
Scott shrank back, looking like a cornered animal.
"You told your mother she was moving into my house?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "Next week?"
"I... I was going to tell you once the basement renovation was finished," Scott stammered, his voice barely audible. "She was lonely, Allison... she couldn't afford her rent increase..."
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"Get out," I said.
Not another word. Just two words, delivered with the finality of a closing iron gate.
