Chapter 3 - The Collapse of the Card Castle**
“What... what are you talking about?!” Caleb shrieked, his voice cracking with sudden, hysterical panic as he tried to push past Thomas into the foyer. “Are you out of your mind? This is my home! My wife is inside! Claire! CLAIRE!”
Thomas didn't budge an inch. With a swift, practiced movement, he planted his forearm against the doorframe, forming an impassable barrier that made Caleb look like an angry toddler trying to storm a fortress.
“Do not cross this threshold, Mr. Prescott,” Thomas warned, his tone dropping into a dangerous, low register. “If you take one step inside, local law enforcement will be immediately dispatched to arrest you for criminal trespassing.”
Diane rushed forward, shoving her son aside and pointing a manicured, shaking finger at Thomas’s face. “Listen to me, you arrogant little nobody! Do you know who we are? My son owns this company! This is a family estate! Call Claire down here right this instant, or I will have you fired, sued, and thrown in prison before sunset!”
Brooke joined in, her voice shrill with indignation. “Yeah! What kind of scam are you running? Caleb, call the cops! Call the police right now and have this psycho arrested!”
Caleb’s hands were trembling violently as he pulled out his phone, his face a mottled mix of fury and stark terror. “Yeah... yeah, that’s right. I’m calling 911. You’re squatting in my house. You’re going away for a long, long time.”
He tapped frantically on his screen, hitting speed dial for the local precinct. We waited in silence for nearly thirty seconds as the phone rang. Finally, Caleb brought the phone to his ear, his eyes darting back and forth between Thomas and the door.
“Hello? Yes, I want to report an illegal trespasser at—” Caleb stopped mid-sentence. His jaw went slack. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen in utter disbelief.
“Sir, your account has been suspended due to insufficient funds,” an automated robotic voice echoed faintly from the phone’s external speaker. “Please deposit funds to continue your call.”
Caleb stared at the screen as if it had just bitten him. He tried dialing again. Declined. Account frozen.
“What... what is happening?” Caleb whispered, his voice pitching upward in sheer horror. He looked up at Thomas, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “What did she do?”
Stepping out from the shadows of the foyer behind Thomas, I finally made my appearance.
I walked slowly, deliberately down the grand staircase, wearing a simple white maternity dress, my eight-month belly prominent, my posture completely upright and unyielding. I stopped just behind Thomas, looking down at the three of them through the open doorway.
“Looking for me, Caleb?” I asked, my voice cool, clear, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Caleb stared at me as though I were a literal phantom risen from the dead. “Claire... what is this? Why is this man blocking our door? Why are my corporate cards declining? Mom and Brooke are exhausted, our luggage is out here, and—why aren’t you cleaning the house like we asked?!”
That last sentence—spoken with such habitual, unthinking entitlement—shattered whatever fragile thread of patience I had left.
I let out a cold, dry laugh that made Diane recoil.
May you like
“Clean the house?” I echoed softly. “Caleb, you really are as stupid as your mother always whispered behind your back.”
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