Chapter 9 - BEATRICE’S RECKONING
With Mia gone and Julian facing criminal charges, Beatrice realized her family empire was collapsing.
She came to my house late on a Tuesday evening.
She didn't use her spare key this time—I had changed the locks the morning after the anniversary.
She knocked softly, her hands trembling against the polished wood.
When I opened the door, she looked like a shadow of the proud woman who used to sit in my living room telling me how to run my marriage.
“Harper,” she whispered, her eyes red. “I came to beg.”
I didn't invite her in.
I stood in the doorway, blocking the warmth of the house she had tried to steal.
“I was wrong,” Beatrice said, tears finally leaking down her wrinkled cheeks. “I thought I was protecting my son. I didn't realize... I didn't see what he was doing to you.”
“You knew exactly what he was doing,” I corrected her gently. “You told him to bleed me dry. I have it on recording, Beatrice. I listen to it whenever I feel an ounce of pity.”
She flinched as if I had struck her.
“He’s my only son, Harper. If he goes to prison, he’ll have nothing left.”
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“He had everything,” I said, looking out at the iron gates of the driveway. “He had a woman who loved him, a house he didn't pay for, and a future most men dream of. He threw it away for cheap thrills and easy money. And you helped him build the fire.”
I slowly closed the door, leaving her standing alone in the dark.
