Chapter 4 - The Bill Comes Due
The drive to my mother’s house in the affluent suburb of Oakridge took eighteen minutes. It was a picturesque, tree-lined neighborhood where lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and reputations mattered more than human decency.
As I pulled into Linda’s driveway, I noticed Nicole’s white convertible parked beside Linda’s sedan. Good. Both snakes were in the same nest.
I stepped out of my car, briefcase in hand, and walked up the stone pathway. I didn't knock. I used the key I had carried since high school, unlocked the front door, and walked inside.
The smell of lavender potpourri and fresh coffee filled the foyer. From the open-concept living room, I could hear Nicole’s high-pitched laughter.
"—and then Eleanor said they might be willing to host the rehearsal dinner at the country club!" Nicole was gushing. "Maya’s little tantrum actually worked out, Mom. It gave Evan and me more time to take couples' shots on the lawn without her kid running around in the background."
I rounded the corner into the living room.
Linda was sitting on the beige sectional, a bridal magazine spread across her lap. Nicole was lounging in the matching armchair, inspecting her manicure. Both of them froze the moment they saw me standing in the archway.
Linda’s eyes narrowed instantly, shifting into her defensive posture.
"Maya. You don't just barge into my home without ringing the bell. Where are your manners?"
"My manners walked out the door yesterday around the same time your basic human decency did," I said, walking to the glass coffee table and setting my briefcase down with a sharp *clack*.
Nicole rolled her eyes, leaning back against the cushions. "Here we go. The martyr arrives. Maya, can we seriously get over this? You embarrassed yourself yesterday. Half the family thinks you’ve lost your mind because you couldn't handle me getting engaged."
"Half the family thinks that because Linda lied in the group chat," I said calmly, looking Nicole dead in the eye. "And you sat there and endorsed the lie."
"It wasn't a lie!" Linda snapped, standing up and smoothing her linen pants. "Nicole has been waiting for Evan to propose for four years! You already had your wedding, Maya. You had your life with David. Nicole is thirty-two, her biological clock is ticking, and she deserved an extraordinary moment. You spent five thousand dollars on an event for nine-year-olds who wouldn't even remember the difference between paper plates and porcelain!"
"Ava would have remembered," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Ava remembered being told by her aunt that she was selfish. Ava remembered her grandmother grabbing her arm and shoving her into a dark corner so thirty drunk adults could clap for a ring."
Nicole scoffed. "Oh, please! I didn't call her selfish, I told her she was acting like a baby. Because she *was*. We took fifteen minutes, Maya! Fifteen minutes!"
"You took two hours," I corrected her, snapping the latches on my briefcase. "You redirected the caterers. You moved Ava’s tables to the kitchen alley. You canceled the children’s activities. You hired a florist under my name, and you hijacked the photographer I paid two thousand dollars for."
I reached into the briefcase, pulled out a thick stack of printed documents, and dropped them onto the glass table right over Linda’s bridal magazine.
"What is this?" Linda asked, glancing down with irritation.
"That is the itemized transaction log from The Glasshouse Pavilion," I said. "Along with the security audit."
Nicole glanced at the papers, her smug expression faltering for a fraction of a second.
"Sarah at the front desk was very cooperative this morning," I continued, pacing slowly in front of them. "She gave me the signed authorization slip where you, Linda, forged my signature to authorize a two-thousand-dollar alcohol upgrade. She gave me the invoice for Nicole’s private floral arch, which was charged to my card on file. And she gave me this."
I pulled a small black USB drive from my pocket and held it up between two fingers.
"What is that?" Nicole demanded, her voice tightening.
"It’s high-definition video of you, Nicole, screaming at a nine-year-old child who just wanted to know when she could eat a cupcake at her own birthday party. And it’s footage of you, Linda, putting your hands on my daughter, yanking her by the arm, and threatening her until she wept."
Linda’s face drained of color. "I did not threaten her! I was disciplining her! She was embarrassing us in front of Evan’s brother!"
"She is not your child to discipline," I snapped, taking a step toward her. The sheer force of my anger made Linda physically recoil into the sofa cushions. "And you do not lay your hands on my daughter. Ever."
"Are you threatening us?" Nicole yelled, jumping up from her chair. "With what? A video of family drama? Go ahead and post it, Maya! See how crazy you look!"
"I’m not posting it on Facebook, Nicole. I’m an attorney. I don't litigate in comment sections."
I picked up my briefcase, closed it, and looked at them both with pure, unadulterated contempt.
"At eight-forty-five this morning, I called Chase Fraud Protection. I officially disputed the unauthorized two-thousand-one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bar tab that Linda forged. I also disputed the six-hundred-dollar floral override and the venue’s weekend coordinator fee."
Nicole’s eyes went wide. "Wait. You did what?"
"The Glasshouse was notified of the unauthorized credit card overrides at nine o'clock," I said with chilling precision. "They have already reversed the charges to my card. And because Sarah’s management needs to balance their ledger for yesterday’s event, they have transferred the outstanding balance directly to the secondary contact listed on the modification form."
I turned my gaze entirely to Nicole.
"Which is you, little sister. Your name, your phone number, and your billing address were entered when you brought in that outside florist."
Nicole began hyperventilating, her hands flying to her chest. "Maya, no! You can’t do that! Evan and I don't have three thousand dollars just sitting around! We’re trying to save for a down payment!"
"Then I suggest Evan start picking up overtime," I replied coolly. "Furthermore, I spoke with Marcus, the photographer. He was contracted by me to shoot Ava’s birthday party. Because you hijacked his services for adult portraiture without a signed commercial rider, he is legally bound to deliver all raw files and copyrights directly to the primary account holder. Which is me."
Nicole froze. "What does that mean?"
"It means Marcus is deleting every single engagement photo he took of you and Evan yesterday," I said, watching the absolute horror dawn across her face. "Not a single image will be edited. Not a single file will be delivered to you. The prints you wanted for your save-the-dates? Gone. The champagne toast pictures? Erased. You took my daughter’s memories. So you don't get to keep yours."
"You vindictive, miserable bitch!" Nicole shrieked, lunging toward me.
Linda caught her arm, holding her back, but Linda’s own hands were trembling with fury.
"Maya! How could you do this to your own sister?" Linda cried, her voice cracking with indignation. "She is your blood! This was the happiest weekend of her life, and you are destroying it out of pure, bitter jealousy because David died and left you alone!"
The room went completely, terrifyingly still.
The mention of David’s death used as a cheap weapon didn't hurt me anymore. It simply severed the very last microscopic thread holding me to the woman who gave birth to me.
I looked at Linda. Really looked at her. Her styled blonde hair, her expensive gold jewelry, her eyes completely devoid of empathy or remorse. She had never loved me. I was just the utility daughter. The ATM. The free problem solver.
"Thank you, Linda," I said softly.
Linda blinked, confused. "For what?"
"For reminding me exactly who you are."
I walked to the front door, turned the brass knob, and looked back over my shoulder one last time.
"Evan’s parents are coming over tonight, right? To discuss wedding plans?"
Nicole stared at me, panic flaring in her eyes. "Why? What are you going to do?"
"I’m not going to do anything," I said with a faint, razor-thin smile. "I’m just wondering how much Eleanor Henderson will enjoy watching that video before she decides whether Nicole is fit to marry into her family."
May you like
I stepped out, pulled the door shut behind me, and listened as Nicole began screaming hysterically from the other side of the wood.
***
