Chapter 3 - The Queen of the Castle
"We’re having formal family breakfast in the main dining room tomorrow at eight sharp," Evelyn announced coldly, looking down at Mariana like an overseer addressing a servant.
Mariana didn't turn around or look up from her folding. "I know."
"Make sure you eat in here beforehand."
"Why?" Mariana asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
"Because I won't tolerate any uncomfortable scenes or pathetic whining in front of our visiting relatives."
Mariana closed her eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath. "Evelyn, that is my dining table too. My name is on the deed."
My mother let out a sharp, cruel, mocking laugh that echoed down the narrow corridor. "Julian purchased every single square inch of this estate with his corporate earnings. Don't ever confuse being married to him with actually owning anything of value."
I pressed my hand hard over my mouth to keep from roaring in uncontainable rage right then and there. I wanted to storm in, throw my mother and sister out onto the street, and burn their toxic entitlement to the ground.
Then Mariana said something that abruptly shifted my horror into sharp, calculated intrigue:
"Keep repeating that delusion, Evelyn. You might need to remember those exact words very soon."
My mother went dead silent, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. So did I.
Because in that exact moment, I realized my wife wasn't just passively enduring this calculated abuse. She was patiently waiting for a trap to snap shut.
And the next morning, I found out exactly what that trap was.
At 7:55 AM, I retreated through the utility entrance, drove my rental car back to the front gates, and formally drove my actual vehicle up the driveway, blasting the horn as I parked.
When I walked through the front doors, my mother and sister were already seated at the head of the grand dining table, sipping mimosas. Mariana sat quietly at the very end, wearing a faded sweater, looking exhausted.
"Julian! You're back early!" Evelyn exclaimed, feigning surprise and stepping forward to hug me. "We were just discussing how lovely it is having the house to ourselves."
"Are we?" I asked coldly, brushing past her without returning the embrace. I pulled out the chair directly next to Mariana and sat down.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop being dramatic, Julian. Mom was just telling Mariana how she needs to pack her things and move out so we can renovate the guest wing properly."
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I looked slowly around the table, letting a heavy, dangerous silence blanket the room. Then I reached into my briefcase, pulled out a thick legal folder, and tossed it onto the center of the mahogany table, right on top of my mother's plate.
"Before anyone renovates anything," I said quietly, "let's talk about whose house this actually is."
