Chapter 2 - Cold Blood, Cold Truth
I didn't waste another second arguing with the vipers. I dropped to my knees on the dirty floor, completely ignoring my mother and sister as they hovered anxiously in the doorway. I reached out, my large hands trembling as I wrapped them around Sarah’s frail shoulders.
"Sarah... look at me, baby. I'm home," I whispered, tears finally blurring my vision.
She slowly raised her head. The bright, vibrant woman I had married five years ago was barely recognizable. Her eyes were sunken, surrounded by deep, dark circles of exhaustion and fear. "Arthur... I tried to tell you," she breathed, her voice cracking. "They took my phone. They told me if I ever tried to run away or find a job, they would use your money to hire lawyers and take Jamie away from me forever. They told me you agreed with them... they told me you hated me."
A physical pain sliced through my chest. "They lied to you, Sarah. I love you more than life itself. I worked every day just to get back to you."
I gathered Jamie into my arms. He was so light—frighteningly light for a six-year-old boy. I stood up, holding my son against my chest while supporting Sarah with my other arm. I turned toward the doorway where Gertrude and Prudence stood trying to block our exit into the main house.
"Out of my way," I said, my eyes boring into my mother's.
"Arthur, you can't just take them into the party! We have the city councilman inside! The mayor's chief of staff is in the parlor!" Prudence hissed, trying to hide the silver tray behind her back.
I didn't answer. I simply walked forward, using the bulk of my frame to shove past them. Prudence lost her balance, her expensive high heels slipping as she stumbled against the service door frame.
We walked through the grand, marble-floored hallway. The contrast was disgusting. Dozens of wealthy, well-dressed people stood holding crystal flutes of champagne, laughing and chatting beneath the custom chandeliers I had paid for. When I stormed into the main ballroom carrying my ragged, starving family, the laughter died instantly. The room fell into a dead, horrified silence.
"Listen to me, everyone!" I shouted, my voice commanding the entire room. "This party is over! Get out of my house! Every single one of you!"
"Who do you think you are?" a wealthy man in a bespoke tuxedo sneered, stepping forward. "Do you know who we are?"
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"I am Arthur Mercer," I said, staring him down until he took a step back. "I am the owner of this estate. I am the man who paid for the wine you're drinking while my son was forced to eat spoiled rice in the back kitchen. Get out before I throw you out myself."
Within three minutes, the mansion emptied. The guests fled into the night like rats escaping a sinking ship, leaving the massive front doors wide open to the cool night air.
