Chapter 13 - Tears on the Welcome Mat
Chloe blinked against the bright morning light, her eyes bloodshot and wide with sheer panic. The pristine, untouchable princess of the family—the woman who had once looked down her nose at my modest clothes and my son’s quiet demeanor—was completely gone.
"Clara," she breathed out, her voice cracking as she took a desperate step forward, raising a trembling hand toward my face. "Thank God. You have to help me. Please."
I didn't step back, nor did I invite her in. I simply crossed my arms over my chest, holding my ground in the doorway of the home we had built with our own hands.
"You’re trespassing, Chloe," I said, my voice completely devoid of warmth. "And you’re standing on property you once called a shack. What do you want?"
Chloe let out a choked, hysterical laugh that sounded more like a sob. "A shack? Clara, look at me! Richard’s accounts have been frozen by the federal government. The FBI raided our penthouse at dawn yesterday. They seized everything—the cars, the art collection, the designer bags, even my jewelry! I have nothing left. The baby is due in three weeks, and I don't even have a crib!"
"That sounds terrible," I replied, my tone painfully level. "Truly. But I’m struggling to understand what any of that has to do with me—or my son."
Hearing his name, Ethan appeared behind me in the hallway. He didn't loom or threaten; he simply stood tall, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jeans, looking at his aunt the way a scientist might look at an interesting specimen under a microscope.
Chloe flinched when she saw him, her face twisting with a toxic mix of lingering pride and sheer desperation.
"Ethan," she whispered, her voice dropping to a pleading whine. "You know something, don't you? You always were too smart for your own good. Richard told me you were the one who gave the flash drive to the SEC. Please... tell them it was a mistake. Tell them you made it up. If Richard goes away for twenty years, what am I supposed to do?"
May you like
Ethan tilted his head, a faint, cold smile touching the corners of his mouth.
"You asked me at your baby shower if I needed a handout, Chloe," Ethan said, his voice ringing clear and steady through the open door. "You told everyone in that room that I was a parasite living off your family’s scraps. Well... I’m standing on my own two feet now. And it turns out, your husband was the parasite all along."
