Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
By sunrise, the illusion Julian and Agnes had built for years had completely dissolved.
I returned to the mansion early in the morning, accompanied by two of Donald’s security guards and Marcus, while Lily rested comfortably under the care of a private nurse at the hospital.
The scene inside the grand foyer was nothing short of tragicomic.
The elegant marble floors, usually pristine and gleaming, were littered with empty wine bottles, discarded designer shoes, and half-packed Gucci luggage bags. Julian was sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase, his tuxedo crumpled and stained with red wine, his hair disheveled, and his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night of panic and alcohol.
Agnes was pacing near the drawing room doors, wrapped in a faded silk bathrobe, her face devoid of its usual layers of expensive cosmetics, making her look decades older and profoundly bitter.
When the heavy front doors swung open and I walked in flanked by security, Julian sprang to his feet with a desperate, jerky motion.
"Evelyn!" he cried out, stumbling forward a step before catching himself on the banister. "Thank God. Look, honey, let's be reasonable. We can fix this. It was a mistake—mom was stressed, I was stressed... please, just turn the credit cards back on. The bank called me this morning. My corporate accounts are locked! They won't even let me buy a cup of coffee!"
I stopped a few feet away from him, keeping my hands neatly folded in the pockets of my trench coat. I looked at him not with anger anymore, but with a profound, chilling indifference.
"The coffee you drink, the suit you wear, the roof over your head, Julian—none of it was ever yours," I said quietly, my voice echoing in the vast, hollow-sounding foyer. "You were living an illusion. A charity case funded by the very woman you thought you could push around."
Agnes lunged forward, her face contorted with rage, pointing a shaky, manicured finger at my face. "You ungrateful little bitch! After everything my son has done for you! Bringing you into our social circle, giving you a family name—"
"Your family name?" I cut her off with a sharp, cold laugh that made her flinch. "Agnes, your maiden name was registered in municipal bankruptcy records twenty years ago. The only reason you could afford your bridge club dues was because my grandfather quietly bought up your late husband’s defaulted debts out of pity. You were paupers wearing borrowed jewels, and you treated me like the help."
Agnes gasped, clutching her chest as if she’d been physically struck. "Lies! All lies!"
"Check your email, Agnes," I replied smoothly. "Donald just sent your financial history to your phone. Every penny of your allowance, itemized down to the last cent, tracked back to my family's private trust."
Julian dropped his head into his hands, letting out a ragged, pathetic sound. "Evelyn... what are we going to do? The mortgage... the maintenance..."
"There is no 'we'," I corrected him coldly. "There is only you and your mother, figuring out how to survive in the real world for the very first time in your lives. Marcus has already packed your personal belongings into three standard suitcases. They are waiting outside by the curb."
Julian’s head snapped up, horror dawning in his eyes. "You're kicking us out? To the street? We have nowhere to go!"
"That sounds suspiciously like being 'dramatic'," I replied, throwing his own words back in his face. "Give her medicine and stop embarrassing this family."
Before Julian could sputter another word, Marcus motioned to the two security guards, who stepped forward and firmly, yet politely, guided Julian and Agnes toward the front doors.
May you like
Agnes screamed curses that grew fainter as they were escorted out into the cool morning air, their designer luggage dropped onto the pavement right beside the suburban gutter.
I stood in the center of the grand foyer, took a deep breath of the fresh, quiet air, and realized that for the first time in my life, the house truly felt like mine.
