Chapter 3 - The Price of Manners
The rain began to fall harder, drumming against the roof and drowning out the sound of the wind. Benjamin was pacing the porch, his phone pressed to his ear, his face twisted in a mask of agitation. He was likely talking to his accountant, realizing for the first time that the 'black hole' he had relied on for years was now a solid, impenetrable wall.
"They're not answering," Benjamin said, his voice breaking. He slammed his hand against the door. "Mom, please. Genevieve is pregnant. We need the accounts open."
I froze.
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing against my chest. Pregnant.
For a heartbeat, the old reflex flared—the urge to protect, to provide, to smooth the path for the next generation. But then I looked at the photograph on the mantel—Thomas, smiling, the man who had worked his hands to the bone so I would never have to ask for anything. He had died believing his son was a man of substance.
"If you are having a child," I said, my voice cold, "then you had better learn how to be a parent. A parent doesn't live off the labor of an elderly woman. A parent earns their way. You are thirty-four years old, Benjamin. If you haven't figured out how to provide for your own family by now, you aren't ready to be a father."
"You heartless old hag!" Genevieve shrieked. She reached out, clawing at the doorframe, her perfectly manicured nails scraping against the paint. "You think you’ve won? We’ll take you to court. We’ll have you declared incompetent. We’ll strip you of everything!"
"You'll need money for a lawyer to do that," I replied calmly. "And as of 11:30 this morning, your retainers have been terminated. I suggest you go home and look at your budget. You’ll find it’s quite a bit tighter than it was yesterday."
May you like
Arthur stepped onto the porch. He stood beside them, a towering, silent sentinel. "The lawyers are already retained, Genevieve. By the trust. And they’re currently reviewing your husband’s unauthorized withdrawals. You aren't going to court to sue for money. You're going to court to explain where it went."
The color drained from Benjamin’s face. He looked at Arthur, then at the door, then back at his wife. The united front they had maintained for years was fracturing. They were realizing that the game had changed. The 'inconvenient mother' had become the architect of their ruin.
