Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
"Brenda, listen to me!" Raymond pleaded, his voice cracking into a desperate whine that echoed off the high ceiling of his empty office. "It was all a lie! Leo isn't my son! Brenda Vance forged the DNA test! Gavin paid her off! It was a setup!"
In the kitchen in Chandler, Brenda didn't even flinch. She simply took a slow sip of her coffee.
"I know, Raymond," she said softly.
Silence stretched across the phone line. Raymond froze, holding the receiver against his ear with a trembling hand. "You... you knew?"
"Teresa called me two weeks ago," Brenda revealed, her tone devoid of anger, containing only an absolute, serene pity. "She offered to show me the Tijuana documents before the divorce was finalized. Do you know why I told her to wait until last night?"
Raymond swallowed hard, afraid to ask. "Why?"
"Because if I had exposed them before the judge signed our divorce decree," Brenda explained, "you would have tried to stay with me out of embarrassment. You would have pretended to apologize. You would have begged me to save your company again. And I would have been stuck in that toxic house for another ten years."
Tears began to spill down Raymond's cheeks, dripping onto his silk tie.
"Brenda... please," he sobbed. "Come back to San Diego. We can fix this. I'll apologize to the girls. I'll put your name back on the deed. My mother... my mother realizes she was wrong. She wants to see the girls."
Brenda let out a small, quiet laugh—a sound that made Raymond's stomach plummet into a deep, dark abyss.
"Your mother didn't want to see my daughters when they were born, Raymond," Brenda said, her voice turning sharp as a razor. "She stood at the foot of my hospital bed six years ago and asked who was going to inherit the factory because Zoey was born a girl. Tell Florence that my daughters are currently eating breakfast in Arizona, preparing for a life where their value isn't measured by an old woman's bigoted expectations."
"Brenda, the company is going to collapse!" Raymond screamed in sheer terror. "If the servers stay locked until Monday, the bank will default our four-million-dollar equipment loan! Walter's factory will go under!"
"Pacific Oak Crafting was practically bankrupt when I met you sixteen years ago, Raymond," Brenda reminded him coldly. "I rebuilt it once because I believed I was building a future for my children. Now, I am taking my forty-three percent equity, my administrative licenses, and my distribution network, and I am building something new. With my daughters."
"Brenda, don't do this—!"
"Goodbye, Raymond."
Brenda ended the call. She didn't block his number; she simply set the phone down on the counter and turned toward her sister and daughters.
May you like
Gaby stood by the counter, a bright, beautiful smile spreading across her fifteen-year-old face. "Was that Dad?"
"It was," Brenda smiled back, reaching out to ruffle her daughter's hair. "He won't be bothering us anymore."
