Chapter 4 - The Empty Refrigerator
“What do you mean, she didn’t buy anything?” I asked, leaning back against my mother’s kitchen chair, letting the silence stretch out like a tightrope.
“I mean... there’s *nothing* here!” Ryan hissed, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper as if he were hiding in a closet to escape the wrath of his mother. “There’s half a jar of mayonnaise, some tapenade from three weeks ago, and a carton of almond milk that expired on Tuesday!”
“Well, where are the steaks?” I asked innocently. “Where are the jumbo shrimp? Where are the pies?”
“Chloe, don’t do this!” Ryan groaned. “You know damn well you had all that stuff! Mom told you to handle the food! She thought you just left the crab to go exchange it! She went out into the garage to get the meat platters, and the spare fridge was totally empty!”
I let out a soft, melodic laugh that clearly sent shivers down Ryan’s spine.
“Ryan, darling, listen to me very carefully. When your mother ordered me to take ‘the food’ out of her house, and your sister told me to ‘know my place,’ I decided to take *all* of my food with me. The ribeyes, the shrimp, the organic vegetables, the dessert, and the crab. It was all purchased by me, prepped by me, and transported by me. If my crab is cheap, then surely my steaks are garbage, too.”
“You took the entire dinner?!” Ryan squeaked, his voice pitching into an octave I hadn’t heard since his voice cracked in high school. “Chloe, that was food for ten people!”
“Yes, and now it’s food for two very appreciative women who actually know how to say ‘thank you.’”
In the background of the call, a loud crash echoed—the unmistakable sound of a crystal wine glass shattering on Linda’s expensive travertine tile.
Then came Linda’s voice, distant but booming with frantic rage: *“Ryan! Who is that on the phone?! Is that Chloe?! Tell her to get her little car back here this instant! The Hendersons are in the foyer! Todd is pouring them champagne, but the ice bucket is empty and there are no appetizers! What did she do with the caviar platters?!”*
“Ryan,” I said, cutting through the chaos. “Tell your mother to order a couple of large cheese pizzas from the place down by the highway. I hear they deliver in forty minutes. That should impress Todd’s future in-laws.”
“Chloe, please!” Ryan begged, completely abandoning all pretense of pride. “Megan is having a panic attack. Todd is furious. Mom is about to faint. If you leave us hanging like this, Todd’s engagement might fall apart before it even starts! They think we’re hosting an elite catered affair!”
“Then you’d better start scrambling some eggs, Ryan,” I said coldly. “Because I am not your catering service, I am not your mother’s scapegoat, and I am certainly not Megan’s punching bag.”
“Wait! Don't hang up—”
I tapped the red end-call button on my screen.
The silence that returned to my mother’s kitchen was deafening. Helen looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and sheer, unfiltered admiration.
“My god, Chloe,” Helen breathed, a proud grin stretching across her face. “You didn't just burn the bridge. You threw a stick of dynamite at it and roasted marshmallows over the flames.”
“They spent three years trying to convince me I was worthless, Mom,” I said, feeling a weight lifting from my shoulders that I hadn't realized I was carrying. “It’s about time they found out exactly how much my ‘worthlessness’ was keeping their pathetic illusion of wealth alive.”
Before I could even take another bite of my meal, the screen lit up again.
This time, it wasn't Ryan.
It was a text from Megan.
**[5:58 PM] Megan:** *You selfish, jealous bitch. You did this on purpose to embarrass Todd and me in front of his fiancee’s family! You can't just take everything after WE invited you into our home! Mom is already on the phone with the high-end private chef service in town. We don’t need your trashy grocery-store food anyway. We’re ordering a five-course spread on the corporate card, and Ryan is going to make sure you pay for every single penny of it!*
I looked at the message, read the words *“corporate card,”* and felt a cold, sharp smile spread across my lips.
May you like
“Oh, Megan,” I whispered to the empty room. “You really shouldn't have said that.”
***
