Chapter 2 - The Sound of Regret
The rapid, aggressive banging on my front door reverberated through the quiet evening air like a series of gunshots. I didn't rush to answer it. I sat at my kitchen island, slowly stirring a cup of chamomile tea, watching the porch light illuminate the frantic faces of my parents through the frosted glass panel.
When I finally unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, my father and mother practically tumbled into the entryway, their breath pluming in the cold winter air.
“Hannah! Oh, thank God!” my mother cried, reaching out as if she intended to pull me into a maternal embrace.
I stepped back sharply, crossing my arms over my chest, denying her the satisfaction of touching me. My father stumbled to a halt, his eyes darting hungrily around the spacious, high-end foyer of the home I had recently purchased in a quiet gated community.
“Why didn't you return our calls, Hannah?” my father demanded, his voice carrying that familiar edge of defensive authority. “We’ve been worried sick about you all day! Your mother saw the financial news alert on her tablet during lunch, and we couldn't believe our eyes!”
“Worried sick?” I echoed, my voice chillingly flat. “Funny, you didn't seem worried sick when I called you from a hospital chapel with my hands covered in the ash of my dead husband and children.”
My mother flushed a blotchy red, her hands fluttering defensively against her wool coat. “Oh, Hannah, don't bring that up again! You know how your father is—he gets flustered by major emergencies! And besides, Sabrina was right there, we couldn't just ruin her special milestone over a misunderstanding—”
“A misunderstanding?” I stepped forward, towering over them with a quiet intensity that made my father take an involuntary step backward. “You told me my family’s deaths were an inconvenient scheduling conflict because of a birthday dinner. You couldn't be bothered to attend a triple funeral. But the second an $18.7 million legal settlement flashes across your computer screen, you miraculously remember where I live?”
“That’s eighteen point seven million dollars, Hannah!” my father blurted out, dropping all pretense of emotional concern as his greed broke through the surface. “Do you have any idea what kind of security that provides our entire family? Your sister is planning a destination wedding in Cabo, and her fiancé’s business has been struggling—this settlement is an absolute blessing from above!”
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I let out a harsh, humorless laugh that made my mother flinch. “A blessing for you? Not a single penny of Jonathan, Samuel, and Charlotte’s settlement will ever touch your hands. You are looking at a stranger.”
Before my father could launch into a furious tirade, a sleek black sedan pulled up behind their car in the driveway, and my sister Sabrina stepped out, dressed in designer furs, marching up the walkway with a scowl carved across her face.
