Chapter 6 - An Empire Built on Straw
Dr. Vance finished securing the IV line and checked my vitals once more, his face softening with grandfatherly concern. “Her temperature has dropped to one hundred and one point two. The antipyretics are working, Claire, but you need absolute quiet, proper nutrition, and twenty-four hours of uninterrupted bed rest. I’ve already dispatched two private registered nurses from St. Jude’s to take over your care here at the house.”
“Thank you, Julian,” I murmured, leaning back against the fresh, down-filled pillows Marcus’s staff had brought in from our family estate. The scent of lavender and clean linen completely wiped away the lingering odor of Denise’s sour anger.
Down the hallway, the sound of Ethan frantically throwing clothes into two cheap duffel bags echoed through the high ceilings. He was sobbing loudly, occasionally pleading with the stoic security guards who stood watch over every drawer he opened.
“Can I take my watch collection?” Ethan’s voice drifted down the corridor, shrill and pathetic. “My father gave me that gold Omega!”
“The invoices confirm those timepieces were purchased using wire transfers originating from the Vance Trust operating account in March of last year,” the head of security replied in a flat, robotic tone. “Step away from the jewelry case, Mr. Vance. Only personal garments and basic hygiene products.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan was escorted back past my bedroom door, carrying two nylon bags stuffed with rumpled shirts and suits. His polished demeanor was entirely gone. His white designer shirt was stained with sweat and tears, his hair disheveled, and his eyes bloodshot with disbelief.
He stopped outside the open doorway, staring in at me as I rested comfortably under the soft blankets, surrounded by people who had spent their entire lives protecting me.
“Claire,” he whispered, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the syllables. “Please. Just look at me. Just give me five minutes to explain. We were happy once. Remember our honeymoon in Maui? Remember the little apartment we had before all this?”
I turned my head toward him slowly. “I remember that apartment, Ethan. I remember cooking you dinner every single night after working twelve-hour shifts at the foundation. I remember giving you my savings so you could buy your first set of professional kitchen knives. And I remember how quickly you forgot all of that the moment you thought you were too important to treat me like a human being.”
“I was stupid! I was arrogant!” he cried out, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. “My mother poisoned my mind! She kept telling me that a real man had to dominate his household! She told me you were soft and that if I didn't keep you down, you’d leave me!”
“Your mother didn't rip the blankets off my sick body while you stood there watching, Ethan,” I said, my voice as steady as granite. “You did that with your silence. You did that with your contempt. You chose your cruelty every single day, and now you have to live with the consequences.”
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Marcus stepped into the doorway, blocking Ethan’s view entirely. “Your time is up. Get off this property before I have Detective Bradley add trespassing and harassment to your booking sheet.”
With a hollow, broken whimper, Ethan turned around and was escorted down the grand staircase. Moments later, the front doors closed behind him with a heavy, final click that echoed through every corner of the house.
