Chapter 3 - The illusion of the Unearned Vacation
While Emma slept the sleep of absolute physical collapse in San Ángel, Jason Collins was lounging on the sunlit terrace of his mother’s estate, feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.
He had slept until ten in the morning—a luxury he claimed had been stolen from him by the "relentless noise" of his own household. He sat in a comfortable wicker armchair, sipping freshly brewed coffee, his laptop open on his lap, though he was mostly checking sports scores and social media feeds.
In Jason’s mind, he was the victim of an unfair domestic environment. He worked forty hours a week. He dealt with clients, office politics, and commute traffic. Surely, he reasoned, he deserved a quiet home to return to. He had convinced himself that Emma’s constant fatigue was simply a matter of poor time management. If she were just more organized, he had thought to himself dozens of times, the kids wouldn't be so loud, and the house wouldn't be such a disaster.
When Margaret walked onto the terrace carrying a silver tray with a pitcher of orange juice, Jason smiled warmly at her.
"Mom, I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here for a few days," he said, leaning back and stretching his arms. "You have no idea how chaotic it’s been at home. Emma has been so high-strung lately. Every little thing sets her off. I try to give her space, but she just seems constantly angry. It’s impossible to get any real work done or relax."
Margaret poured a glass of juice and set it down in front of him. She did not sit down. She stood over him, her expression unreadable, her dark eyes tracking every effortless, self-satisfied gesture he made.
"Is that so, Jason?" she asked softly. "You find your family life... inconvenient?"
"It’s just overwhelming, Mom," Jason sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Four kids under the age of seven is a lot. But Emma chose to stay home. That was her decision. So handling the house and the children—that’s her responsibility, isn't it? I bring home the income. I pay the mortgage. The least I should expect when I finish a long workday is a little peace and quiet, and maybe a warm meal."
Margaret felt a cold rage settle into her stomach, but she kept her face completely impassive. "I see. You view your contribution as the sole pillar holding up your family."
"Well, economically speaking, yes," Jason said with a casual wave of his hand. "I mean, without my salary, where would we be? Emma doesn't have an income. She doesn't have deadlines, bosses, or corporate pressure. All she has to do is manage the day-to-day stuff at home. I just think she makes it harder than it needs to be."
Margaret nodded slowly. "An interesting perspective, my son. Very logical. Tell me, Jason... how much do you think it would cost to hire full-time coverage for everything Emma does?"
Jason laughed dismissively. "Come on, Mom. It’s not a business. She’s a mother."
"I am asking you a direct question, Jason. Answer it." Margaret’s tone had turned instantly to steel, causing Jason’s smile to falter slightly.
"I don't know... maybe a few thousand pesos a month for a maid?" he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably under her intense gaze.
"A full-time night nanny for the twins, who still wake up every two hours. A morning nanny for the toddler. A private tutor for Leo’s homework. A professional chef to cook six distinct meals a day catering to toddlers and adults. A full-time housekeeper to handle eight loads of laundry, dishes, sanitation, and organization every single day. A private chauffeur to manage school runs and doctor appointments."
Margaret stepped closer, leaning over the table until she was looking directly into his eyes. "If you were to pay market rate for the labor your wife performs for you for free every single day, it would cost more than twice your current monthly salary, Jason. You do not support Emma. Emma subsidizes your comfortable lifestyle with her health, her youth, and her sanity."
Jason’s face flushed red. He opened his mouth to argue, but Margaret held up a single hand, cutting him off instantly.
"However," Margaret continued, her voice remarkably cool, "since you believe her job is so simple and that she merely lacks organization, I have decided to give you an opportunity to prove your theory."
"What are you talking about, Mom?" Jason asked, a strange prickle of unease beginning to form at the base of his neck.
"You said you needed a quiet place to work. I have arranged for you to have complete control of your environment," Margaret said with a razor-thin smile. "I have placed Emma on a mandatory, fully expenses-paid retreat. She will not be available. She will not answer her phone. She will not be coming home."
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Jason blinked, confused. "Wait... she's taking a day off?"
"No, Jason," Margaret said softly, leaning down until her lips were inches from his ear. "She is taking an indefinite leave. And starting tomorrow morning, you are taking over."
