Chapter 3 - The Unwelcome Guest
The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Brandon stared at me, his chest heaving, his face dark with murderous intent. For a terrifying second, I thought he was actually going to hit me.
Slowly, his grip on my wrist slackened. He released me, taking a step back and rubbing the back of his neck as the alcohol and the panic warred inside his brain.
"You're out of your damn mind, Maya," Brandon muttered, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed rage.
"I learned it from watching you," I retorted, massaging my bruised wrist. "Now. Move Mom into her room tonight. Or I walk out that front door and make the call."
Vanessa opened her mouth to argue, shooting Brandon a frantic, disbelieving look, but Brandon held up a hand, silencing her. He knew I had them cornered. With the digital evidence already backed up to the cloud, destroying my phone wouldn't save them.
"Fine," Brandon ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes boring into mine with pure venom. "She gets the guest room on the main floor. Satisfied? Now get out of my office before I forget you're my sister."
I didn't blink. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room without another word, my heart still racing a mile a minute.
Ten minutes later, the dining room dinner party began to wind down as guests started gathering in the foyer to grab their coats and say their goodbyes. I stood in the hallway near the kitchen, watching as Brandon and Vanessa plastered fake, radiant smiles onto their faces, bidding farewell to wealthy acquaintances who had no idea the house they were standing in was built on fraud, abuse, and stolen inheritance.
Once the last luxury sedan pulled out of the driveway and the heavy front door clicked shut, the illusion of perfection shattered instantly.
"Brandon! Have you lost your absolute mind?!" Vanessa shrieked, slamming her wine glass down onto the marble kitchen island so hard it cracked. "You're actually going to let that ungrateful little bitch move in here and dictate how we live?!"
"Shut up, Vanessa!" Brandon roared back, slamming his fist against the kitchen counter. "What else was I supposed to do?! Did you see the look in her eyes? She had her phone out! If she uploads those files, we're looking at federal prison time! We lose everything—the cars, the club memberships, the accounts!"
I walked slowly out of the shadows of the hallway, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Glad to see we're all on the same page. Now, I believe there's a bedroom upstairs that needs to be cleared out so my mother can finally sleep on a real mattress."
Vanessa glared at me with pure hatred, her face flushing crimson. "You are making a massive mistake, Maya. You think you've won, but you have no idea what kind of world you've stepped back into."
"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," I replied coldly. "Start packing your mother's bags, Vanessa. You have twenty minutes."
An hour later, the house was eerily quiet.
I stood in the newly vacated guest bedroom on the main floor—the room Vanessa's mother had arrogantly commandeered for months—watching as my mother sat hesitantly on the edge of the plush queen-sized mattress. The room smelled of lavender and fresh linen instead of bleach and damp laundry.
Mom looked around the bright, spacious room in disbelief, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her worn cardigan.
"Maya... we shouldn't be in here," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Brandon and Vanessa... they're going to be so angry. They're going to make you pay for this."
May you like
I knelt in front of her, taking her frail, swollen hands in mine, and offered her the first genuine smile I had managed to muster since I walked through the front door.
"Let them try, Mom," I said softly. "You're safe now. I'm not leaving."
