Chapter 2 - The Screaming in the Kitchen
The silence that followed my calm statement was heavy, almost suffocating. Jameson’s father, Arthur, paused with a roll of packing tape in his hand, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation. Jameson let out a dry, mocking laugh, taking a step closer to me.
“Leave? Ruby, you must have lost your mind,” Jameson sneered, gesturing to the divorce papers resting on the counter. “This house is registered in my name. The debt you just paid off was tied to my business. You have no leverage here. You are a guest who has overstayed her welcome.”
I didn’t look at him. My eyes were locked onto Brooke, who was still casually sipping from my favorite ceramic mug, her hips leaning against my kitchen island.
“First of all, take off my robe,” I whispered, my voice deceptively soft, yet carrying an icy weight that made Brooke’s smile falter slightly.
“Oh, please,” Brooke rolled her eyes, taking another sip. “Don’t be pathetic, Ruby. It’s just a piece of fabric. Jameson bought it for you anyway, which means it’s practically his.”
“Actually, I bought it myself in Milan,” I corrected her, taking a slow step forward. “But that’s not what you should be worried about right now. Second... you might want to check your phone, Brooke. And Jameson? You should check yours, too.”
Right on cue, Brooke’s phone, which was sitting on the marble counter, began to vibrate violently. A second later, Jameson’s phone in his pocket let out a sharp, continuous chime—the distinct alert of a high-priority corporate email.
Brooke picked up her phone, her brow furrowing as she glanced at the screen. Within three seconds, all the color drained from her face. Her eyes widened, stretching so wide I thought they might burst. She dropped the ceramic mug. It hit the hardwood floor, shattering into dozens of sharp, jagged pieces, splattering hot coffee across her ankles.
But she didn’t even flinch at the hot liquid. She grabbed her head, letting out a sharp, breathless gasp that quickly escalated into a full-blown, blood-curdling scream.
“No, no, no! This can’t be happening! This is a mistake!” Brooke shrieked, clutching her phone to her chest as if it were a bomb about to detonate.
“Brooke? What is it?” Jameson asked, his smug expression instantly dissolving into panic as he pulled out his own phone. His fingers trembled as he unlocked the screen. When he read the notification, his jaw dropped, his face turning an ashen gray.
“What’s going on?” Eliana demanded, dropping the silver-framed photograph she was packing. “Jameson, talk to me! What’s happening?”
“The... the business,” Jameson choked out, his voice cracking. “Our commercial loan... it wasn’t paid off. The bank... they just seized our entire operational account. And Brooke...”
I smiled, stepping over the shattered pieces of my mug. “Let me explain it to you, since finance was never your strong suit, Jameson. I did transfer $150,000 this morning. But I didn’t pay off your debt. I bought it.”
Brooke was hyperventilating now, screaming hysterically as she stared at the email from her marketing agency’s board of directors. “I’m ruined! They’re suing me! They know about the kickbacks! Jameson, you said she wouldn’t find out!”
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“I am now your primary creditor, Jameson,” I whispered, looking directly into his terrified eyes. “And as for Brooke, she just got fired for corporate espionage and embezzlement. I believe the police are already on their way to her apartment. Too bad she’s not there to greet them.”
The kitchen, once a stage for my humiliation, had transformed into a theater of their absolute ruin. And I was just getting started.
