Chapter 3 - The Uninvited Guest
Sabrina pushed past our parents into the hallway, slamming the heavy front door behind her. She didn't look around the house with awe; she looked around with the entitled annoyance of a princess accustomed to getting her way.
“Are you seriously giving our parents a hard time, Hannah?” Sabrina snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from my fiancé’s mother that my own sister just won a multi-million-dollar lawsuit? Everyone in our social circle is talking about it! You’re supposed to share this wealth with your family—we’ve supported you through all your grief!”
The sheer, staggering delusion hanging in the air was so thick I could practically reach out and touch it.
“Supported me?” I whispered, my voice trembling with a dangerous mix of grief and incandescent rage. “When did you support me, Sabrina? Was it when you threw a birthday party while my husband’s body was still warm in the morgue? Was it when you sent me a text complaining that I didn't call you to wish you a happy birthday while I was picking out caskets for a seven-year-old and a four-year-old?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes dramatically, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Oh, please! You’ve been dragging that tragedy out for months! Everyone grieves, Hannah, but life moves on! You didn't even attend my engagement party, and now you’re hoarding nearly nineteen million dollars like some kind of miserable recluse while your own sister is trying to plan a wedding!”
My father quickly stepped in, adopting a soothing, manipulative tone he used to use whenever he wanted me to back down from a family argument. “Now, Sabrina, honey, give your sister a minute. Hannah is just overwhelmed. She’s processing a lot right now. Right, Hannah? We’re family, and family sticks together through thick and thin. You’ll set up a trust fund for Sabrina tomorrow morning, and we’ll all put this ugly past behind us.”
They genuinely believed they could bully, guilt, and manipulate me into handing over my children’s blood money to finance a spoiled brat’s destination wedding. They looked at me not as a grieving widow and a shattered mother, but as a walking lottery ticket.
“There is no trust fund,” I said, my voice dropping into an icy, unyielding register. “There is no money for Cabo. There is no money for your bills, Dad. And there is certainly no place for you in my life.”
My mother gasped, clutching her pearls. “You ungrateful, selfish bitch! We raised you! We gave you life!”
“You gave me nothing except a blueprint on how to abandon people when they need you most,” I retorted sharply. “And now, I’m returning the favor.”
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I reached over to the entryway console, picked up my landline phone, and pressed the intercom button connected to my private security gate.
“Marcus? Escort these trespassers off my property immediately. And make sure local law enforcement has a permanent restraining order filed against all three of them by morning.”
