Chapter 3 - The Gilded Prison
December 30th was a marathon of agony.
Peyton had invited sixty people for the "Bailey New Year’s Gala."
She had ordered three cases of champagne.
She had ordered a five-course meal that I was expected to prep and plate.
"The silver needs to be polished by noon, Gianna," she barked.
"And make sure you stay in the kitchen when the guests arrive."
"Nobody wants to see a woman in your condition ruining the aesthetic."
My "condition" was a result of their cruelty.
My hair was lank because I wasn't allowed enough time to shower.
My clothes were rags because Austin had "misplaced" my suitcase months ago.
I was a ghost haunting my own gift.
I spent ten hours on my feet, chopping vegetables and polishing forks.
Jesse, my grandson, came into the kitchen once.
He looked at me with a mixture of confusion and sadness.
"Grandma? Why are you crying?" he asked.
"I'm just tired, Jesse," I whispered, wiping my eyes with my stained apron.
"Why don't you go play?"
"Dad said you were a 'bad houseguest' and you had to work to stay here," Jesse said.
The innocence of a child reporting a monster’s lies.
It broke what was left of my heart.
Austin walked in a few minutes later.
He was wearing a tuxedo he had bought with my pension money.
He looked at the trays of food.
"Is the lobster bisque ready?"
"Almost, Austin," I said, my voice trembling.
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"Don't 'almost' me. We have the city council members coming."
"If you embarrass me tonight, I’ll send you back to Detroit in a pine box."
He let go, and I slumped against the counter.
I didn't know that Joshua was only two blocks away.
I didn't know that he had spent the afternoon with a private investigator.
They had captured photos of me through the kitchen window.
They had recorded Austin’s shouts from the sidewalk.
The "Ingratitude" was being documented in high definition.
As the sun set on the final day of the year, the house began to fill with music.
The guests arrived in furs and diamonds.
They laughed and drank the champagne I had chilled.
They ate the food I had prepared with my bleeding hands.
I stayed behind the swinging door of the kitchen.
I was the secret engine of their perfect life.
I looked at the clock.
11:00 PM.
Only one hour until the New Year.
I heard the sound of loud laughter from the foyer.
Then, I heard a sound that didn't belong at a gala.
A heavy, rhythmic pounding on the front door.
It wasn't a guest's knock.
May you like
It was the sound of authority.
***
