Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
Over the weekend, the house felt charged with electric anticipation. Owen and Lily were playing in the backyard, building a fort out of old cardboard boxes, completely unaware of the tectonic shift happening in their parents' lives. I went out to check on them, bringing a tray of sliced apples and peanut butter.
"Mom," Owen said, looking up from his cardboard castle with solemn eyes. "Is Aunt Brooke coming over again?"
"No, sweetie," I said, kneeling down beside him and brushing a smudge of dirt from his forehead. "Aunt Brooke won't be coming over for a very long time."
Lily clutched her wooden jewelry box against her chest. "Are we poor, Mom? Like Aunt Brooke said?"
My heart squeezed tight, but I smiled, taking both of their small hands in mine. "Listen to me very carefully, both of you. Being rich isn't about how much money you can flash or how many expensive toys you have. True wealth is love that doesn't break when things get hard. Grandma Eleanor’s quilt and this box are worth more than all of Brooke’s houses combined, because they were made with real love. And nobody can ever take that away from us."
Owen nodded slowly, a small smile breaking through his serious expression. "Like a knight’s armor."
"Exactly," I laughed. "Like a knight's armor."
Inside, Colin was deep in conversation with David, who had already booked a red-eye flight from Sydney and was set to land at O'Hare airport by Sunday night. The reconciliation between the two brothers hadn't been easy—there were years of hurt, misplaced loyalty, and silence to unpack—but shared outrage and a common enemy have a way of healing old wounds faster than years of therapy.
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"David’s landing tomorrow morning," Colin told me as I walked back inside, handing me a printout of the flight itinerary. "He’s staying at a hotel downtown so we can coordinate with the state prosecutor before confronting Mom."
"We aren't just confronting her, Colin," I said, placing my hand over his. "We’re dismantling her entire world."
