Chapter 6 - The Tables Turn
"Hannah!" Patricia Mitchell's voice screeched through the speaker before I could even say hello, sounding frantic, breathless, and stripped of all her usual icy composure. "Where are you? Why aren't you answering your father's calls?"
I kept my voice completely neutral, a stark contrast to her panic. "Good morning, Mother. Emma and I left, exactly like Father told us to."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Don't give me that attitude! That was last night! Do you have any idea the mess you've caused? Ethan is furious, Madison has been crying for twelve hours straight because of the stress, and your father's blood pressure is through the roof!"
"I'm surprised Madison has time to cry," I replied smoothly, leaning back in my chair. "I thought she’d be too busy admiring her forty-thousand-dollar dress."
"Listen to me very carefully, Hannah," Patricia hissed, dropping her voice into that familiar, venomous register she used whenever she wanted to intimidate me. "You need to fix this right now."
I raised my eyebrows, exchanging a amused glance with Julian across the table. "Fix what, Mother? What could possibly be my responsibility now?"
"Ethan's business!" she snapped. "Some catastrophic financial news broke this morning about Vance Global pulling out of their merger talks, and Ethan’s stock is in freefall! You know people in the tech and corporate world in Denver, don't you? You worked in data analytics before you... before you went off the rails. You need to call someone! Call whoever is in charge at Vance Global! Beg them to reconsider!"
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. My mother—who less than twenty-four hours ago had treated me like a piece of garbage and banished me to a table by the service corridor—was now demanding that I use my supposed corporate connections to rescue her precious son-in-law's multi-million-dollar empire.
"Mother," I said, letting a cold, sharp edge cut through my voice. "Let me get this straight. You want me—the single mother, the family embarrassment, the person you told to sit in the corner so I wouldn't ruin your precious wedding photos—to call the CEO of Vance Global and ask him for a favor?"
Silence stretched across the line. Patricia stuttered, searching for words she couldn't find. "Well... you're family—"
"No, Mother," I interrupted sharply. "I am not family. At least, that's what you and Father made abundantly clear yesterday. You made your choice. You chose Madison, you chose Ethan, and you chose your precious social standing. Now, you get to live with the consequences."
"Hannah, don't you dare hang up on me—"
I didn't let her finish. I reached out and tapped the red end-call button.
The silence that returned to the chalet was sweet, absolute, and profoundly liberating. I dropped the phone back onto the table and looked at Julian, who was grinning from ear to ear.
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"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Julian said, raising his coffee cup in mock terror.
"You're already on my side, Julian," I smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders that I hadn't even realized I was carrying. "And right now, I think we need to plan a little trip back to Denver. I want front-row seats to see how the other half collapses."
