Chapter 6 - An Empty Table
At seven o’clock the following morning, the snow had stopped falling, leaving our front yard coated in a pristine blanket of white. Caleb and Maya were already awake, tearing into wrapping paper in the living room, their squeals of joy echoing off the walls.
Nadia brought me a fresh mug of coffee, sitting beside me on the sofa. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes,” she said softly. “What did you do, Luke?”
Before I could answer, the sharp ring of the front doorbell broke through the Christmas music playing on the radio.
Nadia frowned. “Who could that be at this hour?”
I set my mug down. “Stay here with the kids.”
I walked to the front door, unlocked the deadbolt, and pulled it open.
Standing on our porch in the freezing morning air was Garrett. He looked like a ghost. He wasn't wearing an overcoat, just a wrinkled dress shirt from the night before, shivering uncontrollably. Beside him stood Susette.
The imperious, untouchable social queen was completely gone. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying all night. In her hands, she wasn't holding a designer handbag or an expensive bottle of wine. She was holding a red velvet holiday tin, trembling so hard the tin lid rattled against the metal.
“Lucas,” Garrett croaked, his lips blue from the cold. “Please. Don’t do this. Talk to Arthur. Please tell him to stop the freeze.”
Susette took a step forward, her knees visibly shaking. She looked past me, into the warm, bright living room where Caleb was holding up a toy airplane, laughing with his sister.
For the first time in six years, there was no smug grin on her face. There was no condescension in her eyes. There was only raw, desperate panic.
“Lucas…” Susette choked out, her voice barely a whisper in the winter chill. “Please. We had no idea. Let us come inside.”
May you like
I leaned against the doorframe, looked at my brother, and then turned my gaze directly onto Susette. The cold wind swirled between us on the threshold, carrying the faint sound of my children’s laughter from inside.
“I’m sorry, Susette,” I said smoothly, not moving an inch. “I only open this door for people who actually belong here.”
