Chapter 8 - The Voice from the Past
The phone buzzed continuously for several seconds before falling silent, leaving a heavy, expectant stillness in the drafting studio.
"Do you want me to block the number?" Marcus asked softly, noticing the slight hesitation in my posture.
I shook my head slowly, taking a deep, grounding breath. "No. Let's see what they have to say."
I tapped the screen and hit speaker, placing the phone face-up on the polished wooden surface.
"Sarah? Sarah, are you there?"
The voice was thin, frail, and stripped of all its former haughty arrogance. It was Leo. He sounded exhausted, older, and utterly broken.
Neither Marcus nor I spoke. We let the silence stretch across the phone line for a few agonizing seconds.
"I know you probably hate me," Leo continued, his voice cracking with suppressed emotion. "And you have every right to. I saw the news about the storage units being seized... Mom and Chloe are facing five to ten years in prison. Their defense attorneys dropped them yesterday because there's no money left to pay their retainers. I... I'm calling to ask if you would consider talking to Marcus. Just to ask him to ease up on the asset forfeiture. They're family, Sarah. Please."
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. Not out of cruelty, but out of sheer disbelief at how little he had changed. Even now, standing amidst the total wreckage of his family's crimes, Leo was still making excuses and asking me to clean up the mess they had created.
"Family, Leo?" I spoke up, my voice calm, steady, and ice-cold. "Where was that word when your mother threw a heavy cast-iron skillet at my head forty-eight hours after I nearly died on an operating table? Where was that word when she locked me out of the kitchen and treated me like a servant in my own home?"
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the line.
"I... I didn't know about the skillet until Marcus showed me the police report," Leo whispered, sounding pathetic. "I was working hard in Tokyo to provide for us—"
"You were working hard to build your career while ignoring the abuse happening under your own roof," I interrupted quietly. "You chose your mother's approval over your own wife every single day of our marriage. And now you want me to ask Marcus to bail them out of the consequences?"
"Sarah, please—"
"Don't call this number again, Leo," I said, my voice absolute and final. "The divorce papers are signed, the assets are distributed, and my life has moved forward. Consider this the last time you will ever hear my voice."
I reached out and pressed the red end-call button, severing the connection permanently.
May you like
Marcus looked at me with deep, unwavering respect in his gray eyes. "You handled that with absolute grace."
"I closed the door," I smiled softly, picking up my drafting pencil again. "Now, let's get back to work."
