Chapter 6 - THE FINAL SUPPER
The Obsidian Room was closed to the public.
The lights were dim.
The candles were lit.
It was the same room where I had almost died.
The mahogany table was set for one.
Chloe walked in at seven o'clock.
She looked radiant.
She was wearing white this time.
As if she were an angel of mercy.
“Maya,”
she said,
her voice dripping with fake honey.
“Mom told me about the meeting.”
“I’m so glad you’re coming to your senses.”
“Giving me the trust shares is the right thing to do.”
“You’re clearly not stable enough to handle that kind of responsibility.”
I gestured to the chair.
“Sit down,
Chloe.”
“Have a drink.”
She sat.
She looked around the room.
“It’s a bit dark,
isn't it?”
“And where is the staff?”
“I gave them the night off,”
I said.
“I wanted us to have some privacy.”
I poured her a glass of wine.
The finest vintage.
The kind she always bragged about knowing.
“To family,”
I said.
Chloe clinked her glass against mine.
“To the future.”
She took a sip.
She sighed.
“Now,
about those papers?”
I pulled a folder from under the table.
“Everything is here.”
“The trust.”
“The deeds.”
“The bank accounts.”
Chloe reached for them,
her eyes hungry.
I pulled them back.
“But first,”
I said.
“I want to talk about the soup.”
Chloe froze.
Her hand stayed in the air.
“Maya,
really?”
“We’ve been over this.”
“It was an accident.”
I pulled out my tablet.
I turned it toward her.
I hit play.
The video was crystal clear.
It was the pass at the kitchen.
The waiter set down two bowls.
One had a small red flag.
The chef’s mark for an allergy.
Chloe walked up to the pass.
She looked around.
She reached out.
She swapped the bowls.
She moved the red flag to a bowl of tomato soup.
She pushed the crab soup toward the waiter.
She said something to him.
I hit the audio boost.
“This one is for my sister,”
the video Chloe said.
“She’s been craving the crab all week.”
The real Chloe stared at the screen.
Her face went from white to gray.
“Maya,
I...
I can explain.”
I hit pause.
“You knew,
Chloe.”
“You knew I would stop breathing.”
“You knew I would be on the floor.”
“You wanted to humiliate me.”
“Maybe you didn't mean to kill me.”
“Maybe you just wanted to watch me crawl.”
“But you did it.”
Chloe stood up.
“It was a joke!”
“I thought you were exaggerating about the allergy!”
“Everyone does these days!”
I stood up too.
I walked around the table.
“A joke?”
“I was clawing at the marble,
Chloe.”
“Mom and Dad watched.”
“And you smiled.”
I threw the folder onto the table.
“Read the papers,
Chloe.”
She grabbed them.
She flipped through the pages.
She started to scream.
They weren't transfer papers.
They were eviction notices.
They were lawsuits for attempted murder.
They were the filings for Trent’s bankruptcy.
“What is this?”
“Maya,
you can't do this!”
“I can,”
I said.
“Because I own the bank.”
“I own the building.”
“I own the firm.”
“And I own the restaurant.”
Julian Cross walked out of the shadows.
He was holding a phone.
“It’s all recorded,
Chloe.”
“The video.”
“The confession.”
“The police are in the lobby.”
Chloe looked at the door.
She looked at Julian.
She looked at me.
“You...
you trapped me.”
“No,”
I said.
“I just served you what you ordered.”
“You wanted a charity dinner,
didn't you?”
“Well,
The Obsidian Group is donating all of your assets to a fund for food allergy research.”
“Your house.”
“Your cars.”
“Your clothes.”
“It’s all going to charity.”
Chloe lunged at me.
Julian stepped in between us.
He grabbed her arm.
“Don't,”
he said.
“It will only make the sentencing worse.”
The doors opened.
The police walked in.
They weren't the quiet,
cowardly guests from the night before.
They were loud.
They were real.
They handcuffed Chloe in her white dress.
She screamed.
She cried.
She called for our mother.
She called for our father.
But they weren't coming.
They were currently being told that their bank accounts had a balance of zero.
I watched her be led away.
I watched the emerald dress of her soul finally fade.
I sat back down at the table.
The room was quiet.
The candles were still burning.
Julian sat across from me.
He poured me a glass of water.
“Are you okay?”
he asked.
I looked at the marble floor.
The spot where I had been.
“I’m breathing,”
I said.
May you like
“And for the first time,”
“it doesn't hurt.”
