Chapter 3 - THE VULTURE’S CRY
Beatrice did not leave quietly.
She began to scream,
a high-pitched,
ugly sound that echoed through the foyer.
“You are a cold-hearted snake!”
“My son should have married someone with a soul!”
“Someone who understands what loyalty means!”
I watched her,
unmoved,
as she grabbed her designer handbag—
another gift I had paid for.
“Loyalty is not a one-way street, Beatrice,”
I said,
my voice echoing her own volume.
“Loyalty is not standing by while your family tries to rob a grieving daughter.”
Marcus tried to intervene,
placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder.
“Mom,
please.”
“Not now.”
She shook him off,
her eyes fixed on me with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful.
“You think you’re so smart with your papers and your laws?”
“Sebastian is coming here.”
“He’s on his way.”
“And he’s not alone.”
A chill ran down my spine,
but I didn't let it show on my face.
Sebastian was desperate,
and desperate men were dangerous.
“Let him come,”
I said,
reaching into my purse for my phone.
“I’ve already called the security company.”
“They are changing the gate codes as we speak.”
“And I’ve alerted the local police that I expect a trespasser.”
Marcus’s eyes widened.
“Camila,
you’re calling the cops on my brother?”
“I’m calling the cops on a man who thinks my mother’s life is a jackpot,”
I replied.
“And if you don’t tell your mother to leave,”
“I’ll have the officers escort her out as well.”
Marcus looked between us,
a man torn between the woman who funded his life and the mother who controlled his mind.
“Mom,”
he whispered,
“you should go.”
“For now.”
Beatrice looked at her son with utter contempt.
“You are a coward, Marcus.”
“You let this woman castrate you with a bank folder.”
She turned to me,
pointing a manicured finger.
“This isn't over.”
“That money belongs to the Hales.”
“We will find a way.”
She marched toward the front door,
her heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the marble.
The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the windows.
Silence returned to the house,
but it was heavy and suffocating.
Marcus turned to me,
his face a mask of false injury.
“How could you do that to her?”
“She’s an old woman.”
“She’s a predator, Marcus.”
“And you’re her accomplice.”
I walked past him toward the stairs,
the folder still tucked under my arm.
“I’m going to my room.”
“Do not follow me.”
“Do not speak to me.”
“And if I hear Sebastian’s car in the driveway,”
“I am calling my lawyer to begin the divorce proceedings.”
He stood at the bottom of the stairs,
looking small and insignificant.
“You’re going to throw away our marriage over money?”
I stopped and looked down at him.
“No, Marcus.”
“I’m throwing away a parasite to save my life.”
“The marriage ended the moment you decided my mother’s death was your financial solution.”
I reached the landing and entered my bedroom,
locking the door behind me.
I sat on the bed and finally,
for the first time since the plane landed,
I let out a sob.
It wasn't for Marcus.
It wasn't for the money.
It was for my mother,
who had worked so hard to give me a future,
only for me to bring it into a house full of wolves.
But as I looked at the folder,
I knew she would be proud.
May you like
I wasn't the victim anymore.
I was the one holding the keys.
