Chapter 2 - Clear the Table
David stared at the woman he had married three years ago as if she were a total stranger wearing his wife's face. He remembered working eighty-hour hospital shifts as a junior resident, surviving on black coffee while Melissa spent his paychecks building an influencer lifestyle based on wealth she never earned.
"Your brand partnerships?" David asked, his laugh dark, hollow, and frightening. "This house is in my name, purchased with the life insurance policy my father left behind when he died in the factory collapse. The roof over your head was paid for by the sweat of the woman you just banished to a pantry."
Melissa's brother, Julian, stood up, puffing out his chest in a pathetic attempt at intimidation. "Hey man, don't talk to my sister like that in front of our family. Show some class."
"You want to talk about class, Julian?" David sneered, taking two menacing steps toward the younger man. "You’ve lived in my guest house rent-free for eight months while claiming you're launching a crypto hedge fund. You haven't paid a dime for groceries or utilities."
Julian's mouth snapped shut, his cheeks burning crimson as he quickly sat back down, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
David walked to the head of the table where a massive crystal bowl of Eleanor’s famous roasted garlic mashed potatoes sat warm and steaming. Without warning, he grabbed the bowl and marched straight into the kitchen, setting it gently beside his weeping mother.
He walked back into the dining room, picked up the silver platter holding the roasted turkey, and carried it into the kitchen as well. One by one, in dead silence, David stripped the dining table of every single casserole dish, bread basket, and gravy boat.
"David! What are you doing?!" Melissa shrieked, jumping to her feet and clutching her head in disbelief. "We haven't even finished eating! You are humiliating me in front of my parents!"
"I'm not humiliating you, Melissa," David said coldly as he picked up the last three homemade pumpkin and pecan pies. "I'm returning the food to the woman who bought and cooked it. Since my mother isn't good enough to eat at this table, neither is her cooking."
May you like
He carried the pies into the kitchen, setting them on the small laminate island beside his mother’s untouched plate.
"Now," David said, returning to the stripped, barren dining room where empty china plates sat under the flickering candlelight. "All of you have exactly ten minutes to gather your designer coats and get out of my house."
