Chapter 2 - The Mask of Filial Piety
Within minutes, Catherine had unfolded a portable signing desk in the center of the Carter family’s cavernous formal dining room. The guests, who only twenty minutes earlier had been gossiping about my supposed inability to find a husband or a respectable career, were now crowded against the archways, whispering in feverish tones.
“Emily, darling,” Evelyn began, her voice miraculously shifting from shrill mockery into the syrupy, trembling tone she reserved for social charity galas. She hurried toward me, her arms outstretched as if to pull me into a maternal embrace. “My sweet girl… why didn't you say something? Why keep such wonderful, miraculous news from your own mother? You know how proud I am of you!”
I stepped to the side, letting her arms close on empty air.
Evelyn caught herself, blinking in hurt astonishment. “Emily! I am your mother! Everything I did—even tonight—was only to motivate you! A mother has to push her children to achieve greatness. If I was hard on you, it was only because I saw your potential!”
“You threw my diploma into a fire twenty minutes ago, Evelyn,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “You told fifty people that I was born to scrub toilets. You laughed while Vanessa called me a parasite.”
“A joke! It was an affectionate family joke!” Evelyn protested, looking desperately around the room for support. The other socialites hastily looked away, examining their manicures or staring at the ceiling. None of them wanted to draw the ire of the woman who held the controlling interest in the state’s largest tech firm. “Friends tease each other! Families tease each other!”
“Let us speak about family, Mrs. Carter,” Catherine Brooks interrupted smoothly, pulling a thick blue folder from her briefcase. “Since Ms. Carter has instructed me to formalize all outstanding personal matters tonight, we should address the financial structure of this residence.”
Evelyn frowned, her aristocratic poise slipping. “What does this house have to do with anything? This is my estate. Arthur bought this for me before he died.”
“Arthur Carter purchased this estate with a three-million-dollar adjustable-rate balloon mortgage in 2014,” Catherine said, sliding a document across the table. “Upon his passing, the estate was in default. The bank was twenty-four hours away from issuing a public foreclosure notice when an equity holding firm purchased the debt, restructured the deed, and allowed you to live here rent-free under a caretaker tenancy agreement.”
Catherine looked up over her wire-rimmed spectacles. “The name of that holding firm is Carter Crest Acquisitions. A subsidiary of Aegis Horizon. In short, Mrs. Carter… you do not own a single brick of this mansion. Emily does.”
The dining room erupted into hushed murmurs.
“No…” Evelyn gasped, clutching her chest. “Arthur wouldn't leave me with debt! He loved me! He worshipped me!”
“Dad was desperate, Evelyn,” I said, my voice devoid of warmth. “He spent his final three years trying to fund your lifestyle—your trips to St. Barts, your bespoke jewelry, Vanessa’s European gap years. When his logistics firm went belly-up, he came to me. He begged me on his knees not to let you end up on the street. And out of respect for him, I bought this house. I paid the property taxes. I paid the utility bills. I even paid the catering company that prepared the food currently sitting on that buffet.”
I gestured toward the lavish spread of smoked salmon and caviar.
“You didn’t pay a dime for this party, Mother. I did. And you used my dime to buy the candles you used to burn my life’s work.”
Vanessa stumbled forward, her eyes wide and wild. “Emily, please! If you own the company, then my job… you’re not going to take my job, are you? Bradley Vance promised me that position! He said I was destined for executive leadership!”
Richard Hayes let out a dry, humorless bark of laughter. “Mr. Vance promised you that position because he needed a pliable idiot inside the internal communications department who would sign off on encrypted data transfers without understanding what they were.”
Vanessa recoiled as if struck across the face. “What?”
“Did you really believe, Vanessa,” Richard continued, his voice dropping into dangerous register, “that an applicant with an unaccredited online bachelor’s degree and zero industry experience was hired as a Senior Director of Enterprise Security for twelve thousand dollars a month on merit alone?”
The guests gasped again. Several people pulled out their phones, their fingers dancing furiously across screens. The rumor mill was churning at maximum capacity.
“Emily,” Vanessa cried, tears finally breaking past her thick mascara, streaking dark lines down her cheeks. “You can’t let him talk to me like this! We’re sisters! Blood is thicker than water!”
“Blood didn’t stop you from offering me a janitorial job half an hour ago,” I replied coldly.
I sat down at the table, unscrewed the cap of Catherine’s fountain pen, and turned to the documents.
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“Richard, Catherine, let’s resolve the London syndicate. After that, we will deal with the pests in the house.”
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