Chapter 3 - The Assessment of Ruin
Once the front door clicked shut, the silence in the mansion became deafening. Gertrude stood in the center of the foyer, her expensive silk dress looking ridiculous in the empty, silent room. Prudence was huddled near the staircase, biting her nails, her eyes darting around like a trapped animal.
I turned my back on them and walked back to the kitchen. Sarah was still sitting on the plastic stool, holding Jamie tightly.
"Sarah," I said softly, kneeling down in front of her again. "We are leaving. Right now."
"Where?" she whispered, her eyes wide with anxiety. "David, they... they took my ID. They took Jamie’s birth certificate. They took everything. We have nowhere to go."
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. "They took your documents?"
Sarah nodded slowly. "Your mother said... she said if I tried to leave, she would call Child Protective Services and tell them I was an unfit mother living in poverty. She said no one would believe me because she had all your money and the house, and I had nothing."
I looked over my shoulder at Gertrude, who had crept to the kitchen doorway. She flinched when my gaze landed on her.
"Give them back," I said.
"David, let's talk about this rationally—" Gertrude started.
"I said, give them back!" I roared, standing up. "Where are my wife's documents? Where is my son's birth certificate?"
"They're in my safe upstairs," Prudence squeaked from behind her mother. "I'll get them. I'll get them right now!"
She scrambled up the stairs, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood.
"Jamie," I said, turning back to my son. "Are you hungry?"
The little boy nodded slowly.
I reached into the bag I had dropped earlier and pulled out the box of imported chocolates I had bought at the airport. I opened it and handed him a piece. He looked at his mother for permission first. When Sarah nodded, tears streaming down her face, Jamie took the chocolate and took a tiny, hesitant bite. The expression of pure bliss that crossed his little face broke my heart all over again. He hadn't had chocolate in years.
Prudence returned a minute later, clutching a folder. She handed it to me with trembling hands, keeping as much distance between us as possible. I opened it, verified Sarah’s ID, Jamie’s birth certificate, and our marriage certificate were all inside, and tucked it securely into my jacket.
"Get your things, Sarah," I said. "We're going to a hotel."
"We don't have many things," Sarah said quietly. She picked up a small canvas bag that held only two faded outfits for her and Jamie. That was it. Five years of my life, $1,800 sent every single month, and my family’s entire existence was reduced to a single, cheap canvas bag.
"That's fine," I said, taking the bag from her. "We don't need any of this trash anyway. I am going to buy you and Jamie a whole new wardrobe tomorrow."
I took Jamie in one arm—he was shockingly light—and wrapped my other arm around Sarah’s waist, supporting her weak frame. We walked out of the kitchen, through the grand foyer, toward the front door.
Gertrude stepped in front of us, her face a mask of desperate panic. "David! You can't just leave! What about the bills? The mortgage payment is due next week! The property taxes—"
"Do not speak to me about money ever again," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Enjoy the mansion tonight, Gertrude. Because it is the last night you will ever spend under this roof."
"You can't kick us out! I'm your mother!" she shrieked, the mask of maternal love completely slipping, revealing the ugly, selfish core beneath. "I raised you! You owe me this house!"
"I owe you nothing," I said. "And tomorrow, the reckoning begins."
May you like
I pushed past her, opened the heavy oak door, and led my family out into the cool night air. I hailed a cab at the gate, and we rode in silence to the Grand Plaza Hotel, the best hotel in the city.
As the city lights flashed past the window, Jamie fell asleep in my lap, his face stained with chocolate and dirt. Sarah held my hand so tightly her knuckles turned white, as if she feared that if she let go, she would wake up back in that cold, dark kitchen eating spoiled rice.
