Chapter 5 - The True Colors
Daniel stared at me, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. The very legal shield he had constructed to keep me poor and dependent had just sealed his absolute financial destruction.
Patricia rushed toward Daniel, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him violently. “Daniel! Tell me this isn’t true! Tell me you didn’t sign that!”
“Mom, stop!” Daniel yelled, shaking her off. “I signed it because you told me she was a gold-digger! You told me that women from working-class backgrounds would bleed me dry if Apex took off!”
“Because I was trying to protect you!” Patricia shrieked, turning her vitriol back toward me. “Look at her! Look at that cold, calculating snake! You planned this! You trapped my baby boy!”
“I didn't trap anyone,” I replied, stepping toward the front door. “I loved your son. I would have given him the world if he had shown me an ounce of respect, honesty, or loyalty. But the moment you raised your hand to strike my face, and the moment he stood there and demanded I apologize to the woman who hit me, the marriage ended.”
I reached into my handbag, pulled out my car keys, and grabbed my coat.
“Where are you going?” Daniel asked, stumbling after me toward the foyer. His voice had lost all its bravado; he sounded like a frightened child lost in a department store. “Emily, please. We can talk about this. We can go to counseling. My mom was wrong—she shouldn’t have hit you. Mom, apologize to Emily right now!”
Patricia stiffened, her chin jutting out in stubborn defiance. “I will not apologize to that little—”
“Shut up, Mom!” Daniel roared, his voice cracking with sheer desperation. “Don’t you get it? We don’t have anything! The company has been running on Vanguard-Hale’s credit line for two years! If she pulls the plug, the payroll checks will bounce on Friday! The lease on the office in downtown is sixty thousand a month! I’ll go to prison!”
Patricia went completely rigid, the reality of their parasitic existence finally crashing down on her brittle skull.
May you like
I turned around at the front threshold, looking back at the two people who had spent six years making me feel worthless.
“You have until noon tomorrow to pack your personal belongings and vacate this house,” I told Daniel. “The locksmith is arriving at twelve-fifteen. Anything left inside will be donated or hauled to the municipal dump.”
