Chapter 4 - The Heiress Rises
The next few days were a blur of lawyers,
tailors,
and doctors.
I was no longer the girl who babysat the twins while her family ate steak.
I was Emily Vance-Carter,
the sole heiress to a multi-billion dollar empire.
My grandmother was a strict teacher.
She taught me how to walk,
how to speak,
and how to look through people as if they were made of glass.
"Kindness is a gift,"
she told me one evening by the fire.
"But power is a shield."
"Never let them see you shiver again."
We received news that Robert and Karen were staying in a cheap motel on the outskirts of town.
All their bank accounts had been frozen.
The cars had been repossessed.
Even the jewelry Karen wore had been flagged as stolen trust property.
They were penniless.
Robert tried to sue,
of course.
But every lawyer he called heard the name 'Eleanor Vance' and hung up.
He was a pariah.
One afternoon,
I decided to visit the site of the old house.
The limousine pulled up to the driveway,
which was now blocked by a heavy iron gate.
Where the house once stood,
there was nothing but a flat,
snow-covered field.
It was as if they had never existed.
As if my years of pain had been swept away by a giant broom.
A figure was standing by the gate.
It was Ethan.
He looked thin,
his expensive jacket replaced by a cheap,
dirty hoodie.
He saw the car and ran toward it,
his eyes wide with desperation.
"Emily!"
he screamed,
banging on the bulletproof glass.
"Please,
tell her to give us something!"
"Dad is losing his mind!"
"We have nowhere to go!"
I looked at him,
remembering the way he had waved my acceptance letter over the table.
I remembered him laughing while I froze.
I rolled down the window just an inch.
The cold air rushed in,
but I didn't flinch.
"You told me I should be grateful for what I had,"
I said,
my voice steady and cold.
"Now,
I’m telling you the same thing."
"Be grateful for the air in your lungs,
Ethan."
"Because that’s all you’re getting from me."
I rolled the window back up.
"Drive,"
I told the driver.
We left him standing in the middle of the road,
May you like
a small,
pathetic speck in the rearview mirror.
