Chapter 13 - The Mother’s Final Play
Two weeks later,
Eleanor Harrison attempted one last desperate intervention.
She managed to corner me during my lunch break at a small cafe near the pharmacy.
She didn't look as regal as before;
her clothes were simple,
and the stress lines around her eyes were deep.
"Maya,
may I sit down?"
she asked,
her voice lacking its usual sharp edge.
"No,"
I said,
not looking up from my salad.
"But you can say what you came to say before I call the police for third-party harassment."
She flinched,
but remained standing by the table.
"We are willing to sign any post-nuptial agreement you want,"
she offered,
her hands trembling.
"Preston will agree to counseling,
and we will never interfere in your lives again."
"Just please,
ask your father to halt the liquidation of our assets."
I set my fork down,
looking up at her with a look of pure pity.
"You still don't get it,
Eleanor,"
I said softly.
"This isn't a negotiation,
this is a consequence."
"You built your social status on the backs of people you exploited,"
I continued.
"You thought you could absorb me into your toxic system and use my wealth to sustain your lifestyle."
"We are an old family,"
she whispered,
clinging to her dying pride.
"You are a bankrupt family,"
I corrected her,
standing up from the table.
"Your house goes to auction next week,
and your son is facing domestic abuse charges."
"Enjoy the coffee,"
I said,
dropping a five-dollar bill on the table.
"It's the last thing you'll ever get from me."
I walked out of the cafe,
May you like
leaving her standing there alone,
a relic of a broken dynasty that had failed to recognize the changing of the guard.
