Chapter 4 - The Scramble for Survival
The panic in the dining room reached a fever pitch. Jessica was sobbing uncontrollably into her designer handbag, her makeup running down her face in dark, ugly streaks. Diane had collapsed back into her chair, clutching her forehead while muttering incoherently about heart medication and lawyers.
Brendan, however, was shifting through stages of grief at a dizzying speed—moving rapidly from denial and shock straight into absolute desperation.
He took two clumsy steps toward me, dropping heavily to his knees right on the wet floor, completely unbothered by the dirty water soaking into his expensive Italian leather shoes.
"Cassidy… Cass, please," Brendan choked out, his voice dripping with a sickening, pathetic sweetness that made my stomach turn. "Look at me. Please. We were married. We shared a life together. You’re carrying my child! How can you be so cruel to your own flesh and blood—to our baby?"
I looked down at him, my expression completely impassive. I placed a protective hand over my rounded belly, feeling our daughter give a reassuring little kick against my palm.
"My baby," I corrected him coldly, "will never want for anything. She will have security, love, and a mother who protects her. Things you and your family wouldn't know the first thing about."
"Cassidy, listen to reason!" Brendan pleaded, reaching out to grab the hem of my soaked dress, though Director Vance instantly stepped forward and nudged Brendan’s hand away with the toe of his tactical boot. "I was just… we were just joking! It was a family tradition to haze new people! You know how my mother is! It was just a silly prank, right Mom? Tell her it was just a joke!"
Diane raised her head, her face pale and haggard. For a split second, the proud, arrogant matriarch flickered, replaced by a desperate old woman staring into the abyss of absolute ruin.
"Cassidy…" Diane croaked, her voice trembling. "Please. Let’s not be hasty. We can talk about this like civilized people. You want an apology? I’ll apologize. I’ll… I’ll get on my knees if I have to. Just… restore our accounts. Restore Brendan’s position. Think of your child growing up without a father!"
“A father?” I let out a short, dry laugh that held no humor whatsoever. “Brendan hasn’t acted like a father, a husband, or a decent human being since the day I told him I was pregnant and he asked me if I was going to ‘take care of it’ so it wouldn't ruin his social calendar.”
Brendan flinched, his face flushing red with shame and guilt.
“You wanted me gone,” I continued, stepping closer so he was forced to look straight up into my eyes. “You told your friends I was a burden. You treated me like a stray dog you tolerated out of pity. Well, congratulations, Brendan. You got your wish. You are completely free of the ‘poor, pregnant burden.’ But as the saying goes… be careful what you wish for.”
Director Vance raised his wrist communicator. “Madam President, the vehicles are secured outside. The media vans are arriving at the front gates. The press conference regarding the restructuring of Vanguard’s executive leadership and the termination of the Morrison portfolio has been scheduled for 8:00 AM tomorrow.”
“No… no, no, no!” Brendan cried out, lunging forward again, only to be firmly pinned to the floor by two of Vance’s security guards. “You can’t do this to us! We’ll be ruined! We’ll lose the house, the cars, our social standing! People will laugh at us!”
“Let them,” I said softly. “It builds character.”
I turned my back on my kneeling ex-husband, my soaked dress swishing around my ankles as I walked toward the grand hallway. Vance and his men formed a tight protective cordon around me, escorting me away from the wreckage of the Morrison family dynasty.
As I reached the front door, I paused and looked back one last time.
May you like
Diane was sitting in silence, staring blankly at the crystal chandelier. Jessica was screaming at Brendan, beating her fists against his chest while he stared blankly at the ceiling, utterly broken.
I stepped out into the cool evening air, inhaling the fresh scent of freedom. The first phase of my revenge was complete. But the real restructuring of their lives was only just beginning.
