Chapter 12 - The Ghost of Stratford Avenue"Susan hasn't left the house in three weeks," Eleanor confessed, her voice dropping to an uncomfortable whisper. "People are talking, Emily. The country club board officially revoked their memberships last Tuesday, and the historical society quietly removed Mark’s name from the donor plaque for the new library wing."
I listened quietly, folding my hands on the desk. "I’m sorry to hear that, Eleanor. But my parents' social standing hasn't been my concern for quite some time."
"I know, I know," Eleanor hurried to say, waving a hand dismissively. "And frankly, everyone knows what Lauren did. What your parents pulled on your wedding day was... monstrous. We all agree on that." She leaned forward, her eyes pleading. "But Susan is breaking down. She called me yesterday, crying hysterically. She said she has no one left. She wants to reconcile."
I stared at Eleanor for a long moment, feeling a strange mixture of pity and absolute detachment.
"Eleanor," I said evenly, my voice cutting through the damp office air like a laser. "When my dress was slashed, when my parents abandoned me at the church to cater to Lauren’s narcissistic breakdown, my mother told me over the phone that my family came second. When I needed them most, they slammed the door in my face."
"She’s your mother—" Eleanor started.
"She raised a golden child who tried to ruin my life for Instagram likes," I interrupted, my tone hardening. "And my father covered up financial fraud using my grandmother’s estate as collateral. They made their bed. Now they have to lie in it."
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Eleanor swallowed hard, reading the absolute finality in my eyes. She stood up slowly, smoothing down her coat. "I... I only came because she begged me. I didn't expect you to forgive and forget."
"Forgiveness is possible, Eleanor," I said softly as she reached the door. "But reconciliation requires remorse. And my parents are only sorry they got caught."
