Chapter 2 - The Exit Strategy
"Daniel, stop glaring at me like that," Emily snapped, stepping forward and trying to grab my arm with a desperate, clawing grip. "Your mother is clearly delusional. She probably fell in the mud on her own and concocted some bizarre story because she couldn't stand the thought of you being happier without her!"
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve, then raised my eyes to meet hers. There was no warmth left in my gaze. Only cold, calculating precision.
"Delusional?" I asked softly. "Is that why you asked for her spare house key on Thursday, Emily? Is that why my landline was cut? Is that why two men in a black sedan matched the description of the private security firm your father employs for his corporate offices?"
Vanessa pushed her way through the circle of horrified guests, her face dark with aristocratic rage. "How dare you accuse my husband's security detail of touching your wretched mother?! You ungrateful, low-class bastard! We brought you into our family, we paid for this venue, and you're letting this old beggar ruin our night?!"
"Your event," I corrected her, turning my head slowly to fix Vanessa with a stare that made her take an involuntary step backward. "You made sure to remind everyone all evening that this wasn't our wedding. You were right, Vanessa. This was never a wedding. It was a hostile takeover."
I bent down, scooped my mother safely into my arms, and turned toward the grand mahogany double doors of the ballroom.
"Daniel! If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" Emily screamed, her voice cracking with hysterical panic as the reality of what she was losing began to dawn on her. "The marriage license hasn't even been filed with the county yet! We aren't legally married! If you leave, it's over!"
I stopped at the threshold, looking back over my shoulder one last time.
May you like
"It was over the moment you whispered to that employee to throw my mother out into the rain, Emily," I said cleanly. "I'll have my attorney serve you with the annulment papers on Monday morning."
As I carried my mother out into the cool, quiet night air, the heavy doors swung shut behind us, cutting off the gasps, the whispers, and the wreckage of a $60,000 illusion.
