Chapter 3 - The Breaking of the Chain
“You can’t kick us out!” Bianca screamed, her face contorting into an ugly, blotched red. “I am your wife! Half of everything in this house belongs to me! My father is a respected businessman! You owe us respect!”
“Your father is a bankrupt fraud,” I said softly from my armchair.
Ewald’s head snapped toward me. “What did you say, you old bat?!”
I reached back into my yellow handbag and pulled out a small brown paper folder. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. When you spend forty years cleaning corporate executive suites after 5:00 PM, you learn where people throw away their secrets. You learn which shredders fail, which tax notices get left on desks, and which offshore accounts are being investigated.
“Ewald Vance,” I said, opening the folder. “Owner of Vance Import Logistics. Or rather, former owner. Two weeks ago, the Federal Tax Fraud Investigation Division issued a frozen asset notice on your commercial bank accounts. You owe four hundred and eighty thousand dollars in back taxes. You didn’t want Alexander’s twenty-five thousand dollars for a country club membership. You wanted it because your electricity at home is scheduled to be shut off on Tuesday.”
Lydia gasped, dropping her glass. She turned to her husband with wide, horrified eyes. “Ewald… is this true? You told me the tax audit was settled!”
“Shut up, Lydia!” Ewald yelled, sweat breaking out across his forehead. He glares at me with pure venom. “Where did you get those documents?! You’ve been spying on us!”
“I didn’t spy on you, Ewald,” I smiled, wiping a speck of dust off my yellow dress. “I cleaned the law office of Sterling, Vance & Associates for twenty-two years. Mr. Sterling is still a very dear friend of mine. When Bianca started forcing Alexander to send you ‘loans’ six months ago, I asked Mr. Sterling to run a simple public records search. You didn’t just marry your daughter off to my son for love, did you? You saw an honest, hardworking software engineer with a spotless credit score and a good salary, and you decided to bleed him dry to pay off your gambling and tax debts.”
Bianca backed away, looking at her parents as if the floor beneath them had collapsed. “Dad… tell me she’s lying. Tell me you didn’t use me!”
“She’s lying! She’s an old crazy woman!” Ewald shouted, but the trembling of his hands gave him away.
Alexander stood in the center of the room, looking at the three of them. The veil had been completely ripped from his eyes. He looked at Bianca—the woman he had adored, the woman he had allowed to cut him off from his mother, his old friends, his self-respect—and he saw her clearly for the first time.
He took out his cell phone, pressed three numbers, and put it to his ear.
“Yes, emergency dispatch?” Alexander said into the receiver, his voice cold as ice. “I have three trespassers inside my home at 142 Elm Street. One of them physically assaulted my seventy-two-year-old mother and forcibly snatched cash from her hands. I need officers dispatched immediately.”
“Alexander! No!” Bianca screamed, throwing herself toward him, attempting to grab the phone.
Alexander dodged her easily, grabbed her by her shoulders, and pushed her back onto the sofa.
“Don't touch me,” he said, pointing a finger at her face. “Don't touch my mother. If you or your crooked parents aren't off this property before the police pull up, I will press formal grand larceny and elder abuse charges against every single one of you.”
Ewald grabbed Lydia by the arm. “We’re leaving. Come on, Lydia. Let these low-class trash rot together.”
“Take your cheap deli food with you,” I called out cheerfully as Ewald and Lydia scurried out the front door like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Bianca stood by the doorway, her hair disheveled, tears of rage ruining her mascara. “You think you won, old woman?” she hissed at me. “Alexander loves me. He’ll come crawling back to me in three days! You’re nothing!”
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“He spent three years under your spell, Bianca,” I replied, looking her straight in the eye. “But a mother’s love built the foundation of his soul. You only built a house of cards. And the wind just blew.”
She slammed the door so hard the glass framed pictures on the hallway wall shook.
