Chapter 4 - The Toast
"My dear husband, Liam," I began, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of the dining room.
Liam shifted in his seat, the easy charm faltering slightly at the edge of his lips. "Clara, really, you're embarrassing me..."
"Two years ago," I continued, ignoring him entirely, "I stood in a white dress and made a covenant with you. I promised to love you in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, through sleepless nights and uncertain futures. And when Hailey was born three months ago, I thought our family was finally complete."
"Oh, sweetheart," my mother murmured, touching her heart. Evelyn offered a stiff, condescending nod of approval.
"I watched you work late every night," I said, stepping away from my chair and pacing slowly toward the Credenza where the family sound system sat connected to the home automation tablet. "I watched you sacrifice dinners, bedtimes, and weekends. You told me it was all for us. You told me that everything you did was to build an empire for Hailey's future."
Liam smiled, regaining his footing. He puffed his chest out slightly. "It is, Clara. Everything I do is for you two."
"I know," I said softly, picking up the tablet. "And because you work so hard, I wanted to share something special with everyone tonight. A little window into what my husband's evenings truly sound like."
Liam’s brows furrowed. "Clara? What are you doing with the iPad?"
"Six days ago, Liam, you forgot to disconnect a phone call," I said, my voice dropping an octave, dead and cold. "You thought you hung up. But the line stayed open for four minutes and twelve seconds."
Liam's face drained of every drop of color. His jaw slacked. "Wait—Clara, stop—"
I tapped the screen.
The high-end surround sound speakers hidden throughout the dining room came alive with a soft hiss of static, followed by the crystalline clarity of recorded audio:
*Click.*
*Julianne's voice: "Is the domestic warden keeping tabs on you again?"*
Evelyn gasped, her fork clattering loudly against her plate. Richard froze mid-chew. My father leaned forward, his brow furrowing into a fierce scowl.
*Liam's voice through the speakers:*
*"She’s driving me insane. Sending me endless pictures of the baby, asking when I’m coming home... I just want her to leave me the hell alone."*
"Turn that off!" Liam shouted, lunging out of his chair so violently that his Pinot Noir glass tipped over, splashing dark red wine across the antique tablecloth like fresh arterial blood. "Clara, turn that goddamn thing off right now!"
My father stood up instantly, six-foot-two of union carpenter fury, planting himself directly between Liam and me. "Sit your ass down, Liam!" David roared. "Sit down and let it play!"
The recording continued, mercilessly filling the room:
*Julianne: "Well, you chose to play daddy, sweetie. You can't blame her for expecting you to show up."*
*Liam: "I didn't choose this. She got pregnant on purpose to trap me. Look at her now—she doesn't work, she barely cleans, and she looks like an unmade bed. Of course I hate her. I barely touch her anymore. Just wait. The partnership bonus clears in January. Once that money hits my private account, I’ll divorce her, take the equity in the house, and then I’ll marry you."*
The distinct, sickening sound of the kiss echoed through the speakers, followed by Julianne's low, triumphant chuckle.
*Click.*
Silence fell over the dining room—a heavy, suffocating silence that felt like the bottom of the ocean.
Evelyn was clutching her pearls so tightly her knuckles were white, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "Liam... tell me that isn't you. Tell me that's an AI fake."
Liam stood frozen behind his overturned chair, sweat beading across his forehead, his chest heaving. "Mom... it’s not what it sounds like. It was a joke. We were blowing off steam after a twelve-hour shift! Julianne was teasing me and—"
"A joke?" Richard’s voice was dangerously low. The former judge slowly rose from his seat, looking at his only son not with anger, but with absolute disgust. "You spoke about the mother of your child like she was garbage in the gutter. You plotted to steal the equity of this home and abandon your daughter. Is that how I raised you?"
"Dad, you don't understand the corporate environment!" Liam stammered, his eyes darting wildly toward the front door. "Clara has been distant! She won't touch me, she doesn't care about my career—"
"I was recovering from an emergency C-section, Liam," I said, stepping out from behind my father. My voice didn't waver. "While you were booking suites at The St. Regis with marital funds."
Liam spun toward me, his face twisting into a mask of pure malice. "You think you’re smart, don't you? You think you just pulled off a grand finale? You just ruined our family! You destroyed everything over locker-room talk!"
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"Oh, Liam," I said, reaching into my canvas diaper bag and pulling out a thick, legal-sized manila envelope. "The toast was just the appetizer. Let’s talk about the main course."
***
