Chapter 7 - No Quarter
Two weeks later, Margaret and Paige were forced to move into a run-down, one-bedroom basement apartment on the outskirts of the county—the only place they could afford using the meager state assistance checks they qualified for after all their personal bank accounts were frozen by the court.
Having lost her high-paying vanity lifestyle, Paige was forced to take a entry-level shift at a local diner to pay their basic rent. The girl who had mocked Gwen for washing dishes was now spending twelve hours a day on her feet, scrubbing greasy kitchen tiles and clearing dirty tables for minimum wage.
Margaret tried repeatedly to call my cell phone, using different public numbers to beg for mercy.
One evening, I finally answered.
"Ethan... please," Margaret sobbed into the receiver, her voice sounding old, broken, and desperate. "We have no money left. The landlord is threatening to evict us. Paige’s hands are bleeding from working in that diner. We are living on instant soup. How can you do this to your own mother?"
"Do you remember what you told Gwen when she begged you for three hundred dollars to see an oncologist?" I asked coldly into the phone.
Silence gripped the line.
"You told her she was dramatic, that she brought it on herself, and that she deserved nothing," I reminded her, each word landing like a lead weight. "You are currently living in the exact reality you created for my wife. You will stand trial in three months, mother. Prepare your defense."
May you like
Before she could scream or plead further, I ended the call and permanently blocked the number.
There would be no leniency. There would be no second chances. Justice was taking its natural course, and I intended to see it through to the bitter end.
