Chapter 4 - The Last Supper
The night of the revelation arrived with a thunderstorm that rattled the windows.
Esther spent the afternoon in the kitchen,
the smell of roasting meat filling the air to mask her true intentions.
David and Rachel came downstairs,
dressed as if they were going to a gala.
David was in a high mood,
having just "closed a deal" that Esther knew was actually a fabrication of his failing company.
“Smells good for once,”
David remarked,
pulling out a chair for Rachel.
Rachel sat down,
rubbing her belly with a smug look of triumph directed at Esther.
“I’m starving,”
Rachel said,
“the baby needs real food,
not just the salad you tried to give me yesterday.”
Esther didn't respond.
She moved with a ritualistic precision,
placing three large,
silver-domed platters on the table.
The steam rose from the edges,
giving the illusion of a feast fit for a king.
David rubbed his hands together,
his eyes gleaming with greed.
“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted the situation,
Esther,”
he said,
his voice dripping with condescension.
“It makes things so much easier for everyone.”
“I’ve decided we’ll let you stay in the guest room for another month,”
he added,
“until Rachel’s morning sickness passes.”
“Isn't that generous of him?”
Rachel giggled,
reaching for her fork.
Esther stood at the head of the table,
her hands resting on the edges of the wood.
“I think it’s time to eat,”
she said,
her voice ringing out like a bell in the silence.
David reached for the handle of his dome.
Rachel reached for hers.
“On the count of three,”
Esther whispered.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
They lifted the lids simultaneously,
expecting prime rib and roasted vegetables.
Instead,
the plates were empty of food.
On David’s plate lay a thick stack of legal documents:
the final divorce decree,
his medical records highlighting his infertility,
and a list of his company’s debts.
On Rachel’s plate lay the evidence of David’s true financial status,
including the "declined" notices and the repossession orders for the cars.
And in the center of the table,
on the third plate,
was the deed showing the house had been sold to a private investment group.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Rachel’s smile shattered like glass on a stone floor.
David’s face turned a shade of gray that Esther had never seen before.
“What is this?”
David hissed,
his voice cracking.
“This is your life,
David,”
Esther said,
leaning in so her face was inches from his.
“The house is sold.”
“The cars are gone.”
“The bank accounts are empty.”
“And that child Rachel is carrying?”
Esther paused,
her eyes flickering to the mistress.
“Since the medical records on your plate prove you’ve been sterile since birth,”
“I’d love to know who the real father is.”
Rachel turned pale,
her hand dropping from her belly as she looked at David with terror.
May you like
David’s crown didn't just fall;
it disintegrated.
