Chapter 4 - The Banquet of the Vultures
Day ninety arrived with a brilliant,
cruel sun that flooded the mansion with light.
Upstairs,
I could hear the sounds of caterers moving about.
Richard had organized a "celebration of life,"
which was really just a pre-funeral party to show off his new status to the elite.
He had invited the board of directors,
the city’s top investors,
and even the local press.
He wanted everyone to see him as the grieving widower-to-be,
the man who would heroically carry the Vance torch forward.
I heard Sienna’s voice ringing out from the foyer.
"Put the 'New Beginning' banner over the fireplace!"
"And more lilies!"
"I want the scent to be overwhelming!"
I sat in the guest room,
staring at the red dress hanging on the back of the door.
I had spent the morning doing my hair and makeup.
I looked vibrant.
I looked healthy.
I looked like a woman who had never seen a hospital room in her life.
I heard Richard’s footsteps approach my door.
I quickly threw on a tattered grey robe and sat in my wheelchair,
slumping my shoulders and letting my head hang.
The lock clicked.
He walked in,
wearing a custom-tailored black suit.
"It’s time,
Elena,"
he said,
not even looking at my face.
"I’m going to wheel you out for a few minutes."
"Just a quick appearance for the board."
"They need to see you one last time before... well,
before the end."
"Try not to drool on yourself."
He didn't wait for an answer.
He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed me out.
The hallway was lined with guests.
I could hear the hushed whispers as we passed.
"Poor Elena."
"She looks so frail."
"Richard is such a saint for taking care of her."
I kept my eyes closed,
listening to the clinking of champagne flutes.
We reached the top of the grand staircase.
Richard stopped,
presenting me to the crowd below like a trophy of his own success.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
Richard announced,
his voice booming with a fake tremor of emotion.
"As you all know,
my dear wife is in her final hours."
"But she wanted to be here,
to witness the transition of the Vance Empire."
"To see that her father’s legacy is in good hands."
Sienna stood at the bottom of the stairs,
beaming in a white lace dress that made her look like a perverse bride.
She held a glass of champagne high.
"To the future!"
she shouted.
"To the new Vance era!"
The crowd cheered.
Richard leaned down to whisper in my ear.
"Goodbye,
Elena."
"I’ve already called the ambulance to take you away as soon as the guests leave."
"You won't be coming back."
He started to turn the wheelchair to take me back to the guest room.
"Wait,"
I said.
My voice wasn't a rattle.
It wasn't a whisper.
It was a command that sliced through the room like a blade.
The music stopped.
The guests froze.
Richard’s hands tightened on the wheelchair.
"What did you say?"
he hissed.
I stood up.
The movement was fluid,
strong,
and perfectly balanced.
I let the grey robe slip from my shoulders,
revealing the crimson designer dress beneath.
The silk clung to a body that was fit and powerful.
I stepped out of the wheelchair,
each heel clicking against the marble with the sound of a closing trap.
Richard stumbled back,
his face turning a shade of white that rivaled the lilies.
"The doctors made a mistake,
Richard,"
I said,
my voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom.
"I’m not dying."
"But I think your career is."
I pulled the clean MRI scan from the hidden pocket of my dress
and held it up for the cameras to see.
"Clear,"
I said.
"No cancer."
"Just a lot of stress...
and a husband who was trying to poison me."
The room erupted into gasps.
Sienna dropped her glass,
the champagne splashing onto her white lace.
"Richard,
what is she talking about?"
she shrieked.
I didn't give him a chance to answer.
I reached into the wheelchair and pulled out the thick,
legal folder Marcus had prepared.
"I’ve spent the last ninety days doing a little 'renovation' of my own,"
I said,
walking down the stairs toward him.
"A renovation of our finances."
"A renovation of our legal standing."
"And a renovation of your freedom."
I threw the folder onto the dining table,
right next to the chocolate-covered strawberries.
"Read it,
Richard."
"It’s the deed to every company you thought you owned."
"It’s the evidence of your embezzlement."
"It’s the footage of you dragging me across this floor."
"And it’s the divorce papers."
"Oh,
and one more thing,"
I added,
looking at Sienna.
"I have the paternity test for the baby."
"Richard...
May you like
you’re not the father."
The silence that followed was the most satisfying sound I had ever heard.
