Chapter 4 - The Collapse of the Empire
"You can't do this!" Jocelyn screamed, rushing forward and grabbing the edge of the mahogany table. "You can't kick our mother out of her home! Where is she supposed to go?!"
"She can move into your guest bedroom, Jocelyn," I replied smoothly. "Since you're so devoted to her happiness."
"We don't have a guest bedroom!" Jocelyn yelled, her voice pitching into a hysterical shriek. "We had to list our house for sale three weeks ago because Grant couldn't pay the mortgage!"
I blinked, taking in the news with cold, unyielding satisfaction. "Is that so? Then I suggest the three of you look for a nice three-bedroom apartment in South Renton. I hear the rent is very reasonable."
My mother sank back into her high-backed chair, her face grey, her hands trembling so violently she dropped her silk napkin onto the floor.
"Vivian..." my mother wept, the tears finally real, spilling down her carefully made-up cheeks. "Please... please don't do this to me. I'm your mother. What will my friends at the club say? What will people think when they find out I'm living in a rented apartment?!"
I looked at my mother—at the woman who had spent five years treating me like an unpaid servant, who had called my daughter's existence "inconvenient," and who had tried to forge my name to steal half a million dollars.
"They'll think you raised a daughter who finally stopped letting you bleed her dry, Beatrice," I said softly.
Lily pulled gently on my sleeve. I looked down at her.
"Mommy?" Lily whispered, her small voice echoing through the silent, ruined dining room. "Is Grandma going to be sad now?"
I knelt down beside my daughter, taking her small hands in mine, right there at the foot of the table where her heart had been broken sixteen hours earlier.
"Grandma is facing the consequences of her choices, baby," I told her gently, ensuring my mother heard every single word. "Just like grown-ups are supposed to."
Lily looked past me at my mother, who was sitting in her silk chair sobbing into her hands. Then Lily reached into her small backpack, pulled out her damaged, gravy-stained cherry-tree book, and held it out toward the table.
"Grandma?" Lily said softly.
My mother raised her tear-stained face, blinking through her watery vision.
"You can keep the book," Lily said quietly. "I drew the cherry tree because I thought you were sweet. But I don't think you are sweet anymore."
Lily turned around, grabbed my hand, and looked toward the front door. "Can we go buy the real oil paints now, Mommy?"
A sob caught in my throat—not of pain, but of profound, unshakeable pride. "Yes, sweetie. We can go buy the oil paints."
I stood up, adjusting my coat, and looked at Marcus Hale.
"Marcus," I instructed, "have the deputies stay on the property until four PM today to ensure no fixtures, artwork, or structural items are removed from the house. File the formal civil fraud lawsuit against Beatrice, Jocelyn, and Grant in King County Superior Court by five PM."
"Consider it done, Vivian," Marcus nodded.
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"Vivian, wait!" Jocelyn cried out, taking a step toward me as I turned toward the foyer. "What about the lease on my Range Rover?! The dealership said the payment failed this morning!"
I didn't even turn around. "Park it on the street, Jocelyn. The repo truck will be picking it up at midnight."
