Chapter 2 - The Parasites Gather
By seven o'clock that evening, the front door lock buzzed violently as someone aggressively slammed the brass knocker against the wood.
I was sitting in my favorite armchair in the living room, a thick wool blanket over my knees, sipping warm broth. I didn't get up. I didn't need to. I had already expected the storm.
Evan marched into the living room, followed closely by his mother, Diane, and his sister, Brianna.
Diane Mercer was a woman who wore victimhood like a designer coat. She was dressed in an expensive cashmere sweater—one I had bought her for Christmas—and her face was pinched into a picture of wounded maternal outrage. Brianna, twenty-nine years old and perpetually unemployed, slouched behind her mother, glaring at me while tapping furiously on her iPhone.
“Claire!” Diane squawked, her voice echoing through the foyer as she stepped into the living room. “What is the meaning of this insolence?! Evan tells me you’re threatening his job! You cut off my allowance! Have you lost your mind after that little surgery?!”
Little surgery.
I set my mug down on the side table with a slow, deliberate click.
“Hello, Diane. Hello, Brianna,” I said evenly. “I’d offer you coffee, but as you can see, I’m still recovering from peritonitis.”
“Oh, spare us the dramatic sob story!” Brianna snapped, rolling her eyes. “Lots of people get their appendix out, Claire! It’s a routine procedure! My friend Ashley had hers out on a Friday and was back at the club by Tuesday! You’ve been lounging in the hospital for two weeks acting like you survived a war!”
I looked at Brianna. I remembered paying off $14,000 in credit card debt for her two years ago so she wouldn't be sued by a collection agency. I remembered buying her a replacement Mazda after she wrapped hers around a telephone pole while driving intoxicated—a favor she had repaid by never once saying thank you.
“Ashley probably didn't have her appendix burst while alone in her kitchen, Brianna,” I said coldly. “She probably didn't lie in septic shock for six hours before a neighbor found her.”
“That’s irrelevant!” Diane interjected, stepping right up to the edge of the rug, her bony finger pointing directly at my face. “You married my son! When you married Evan, you became part of the Mercer family! That means family supports family! You have millions of dollars sitting in corporate accounts, and you’re squabbling over five thousand dollars a month for your mother-in-law? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Mom, calm down—” Evan tried to intervene, looking noticeably nervous now.
“No, Evan! I will not calm down!” Diane shouted. “She’s treating you like an employee! She’s threatening to embarrass you at your own company! Claire, I demand you reinstate my automatic transfer immediately, and you apologize to Evan for this absurd power trip!”
I sat quietly for a long moment, listening to the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
I looked at the three of them standing in my living room. They looked like a pack of wolves that had gotten used to being fed prime steak from my hand, and now that the meat was gone, they were preparing to bite off the hand itself.
“Diane,” I said, my voice dropping an octave, cold and razor-sharp. “Do you know whose house you are standing in?”
Diane frowned. “What?”
“This house,” I said, pointing a finger toward the floor. “I bought this house two years before I met your son. The deed is in my name. The mortgage was paid off by my company before Evan ever set foot in the doorway.”
I looked at Brianna.
“The car you drive? Registered to Bennett Supply Group. The insurance on that car? Paid by my corporate account.”
Finally, I turned my gaze to Evan.
“And your salary, your title, your expense account, and your health insurance? All contingent on my approval as eighty-two percent shareholder of Bennett Supply.”
Evan took a sharp breath. “Claire, don't do this here—”
“I gave you all a life of absolute luxury,” I continued, ignoring Evan completely as I stared down his mother. “I paid your debts. I funded your vacations. I let you live under my roof for fourteen months while you remodeled your kitchen. And when I was lying in a hospital bed with blood poisoning, begging for someone to hold my hand, not one of you could be bothered to drive fifteen minutes to see if I was alive.”
Diane’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of red. “We were busy! Family has obligations!”
“You are not my family,” I said cleanly. “You are parasites.”
Brianna gasped. “How dare you?!”
“Get out of my house,” I said.
“Claire, be reasonable!” Evan shouted, stepping between me and his mother. “You’re emotional right now! You’re sick and you’re taking it out on us! Let’s just talk about this logically tomorrow—”
“Evan,” I interrupted, pulling a thick manila folder from under my blanket and dropping it onto the coffee table with a heavy thud. “That folder contains a formal Notice of Termination for your employment as President of Bennett Supply Group, effective at 8:00 AM tomorrow. It also contains a formal Revocation of Spousal Credit Privileges, and an eviction notice for your personal belongings from this property.”
Evan stared at the folder as if it were a venomous snake.
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“You… you can't fire me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m your husband.”
“No, Evan,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “You were my husband. But starting tomorrow, you’re just a former employee facing a civil lawsuit for corporate embezzlement.”
