Chapter 4 - The Inundation of Bitter Texts
By eleven o'clock,
the silence of the condo was broken by the continuous vibration of my phone.
Preston had moved from arrogant commands to frantic demands.
"Why is my AmEx declined?"
the first text read.
"I'm trying to pay for a client lunch at Gibson's,
and the waiter just told me the card is restricted."
Five minutes later,
another message arrived.
"Maya,
answer your phone right now,
this is incredibly embarrassing."
I watched the messages roll in,
each one sweeter than the last,
showing his descent into panic.
"Did you lock the joint account?"
he typed,
the desperation bleeding through the screen.
"The rent for the office is due today,
and the wire transfer failed."
I took a sip of my green tea,
feeling the swelling on my jaw begin to subside slightly.
Then,
a new number flashed on the screen—Eleanor's personal line.
I answered it,
curious to hear the matriarch's tone now that the money had dried up.
"Maya,"
Eleanor’s voice came through,
sharp and clipped,
devoid of her usual southern charm.
"Preston is in a state of distress,
what on earth are you doing with the accounts?"
"Good morning,
Eleanor,"
I said smoothly,
my voice devoid of any emotion.
"I am simply managing my assets,
as a modern woman should."
"That money belongs to the family now,"
she snapped,
dropping the polite facade entirely.
"You married my son,
your duties are to support him,
not humiliate him in front of his peers."
"Your son struck me across the face this morning,"
I reminded her,
my tone hardening.
"And you sat there,
drinking your coffee,
telling me about boundaries."
"A marital dispute is between a husband and wife,"
she said,
dismissing the assault without a second thought.
"You provoked him with your stubbornness,
and now you are playing the victim to steal his peace."
"I'm not playing anything,
Eleanor,"
I replied,
preparing to deliver the final blow.
"The condo in River North is mine,
the AmEx is mine,
and the money in the joint account came from my family."
"Your son is broke,
your husband is a fraud,
and you are all living on my dime."
The line went completely dead for several seconds as the truth registered.
"You ungrateful little girl,"
she whispered,
her voice trembling with pure malice.
"We made you a Harrison,
we gave you status."
"Keep the status,"
I said,
"I'll keep the money."
I hung up the phone before she could reply,
blocking her number instantly.
May you like
The illusion was shattered,
and the Harrisons were finally seeing the ugly truth of their own dependency.
