Chapter 3
That evening, Linda's call came.
Gone was the morning's hysterics, replaced by a carefully modulated, almost patronizing calm.
Her voice oozed through the receiver. "Emily, dear, come home for dinner. We're family. These silly quarrels shouldn't last. Let's sit down and talk this through like adults."
A bitter laugh caught in my throat at the sheer hypocrisy of it all.
A dinner invitation? More like a summons to my own execution. The Stone family was wasting no time setting the stage.
"Alright, I'll be there," I agreed.
I was curious to see what act they planned to perform next.
*****
The Stone Estate blazed with light, but the atmosphere inside was anything but welcoming. The moment I stepped through the grand foyer, a suffocating pressure settled in the air.
The living room had been transformed into an impromptu courtroom.
Relatives filled every sofa and armchair: Uncle Richard Stone, two aunts, even distant cousins I'd met only at weddings. They sat stiff-backed, faces solemn, awaiting the proceedings.
Linda presided from the head of the arrangement, with Michael a brooding statue beside her.
Olivia's absence was notable; apparently, she hadn't yet earned a seat at these sacred "family affairs."
All eyes swiveled to me the moment I entered.
Their collective gaze held no warmth, only the cold scrutiny reserved for a traitor who had dared to stain the family honor.
"You finally decided to show your face. Look at the mess you've made!" barked Richard, a minor official in a state-owned enterprise who loved flexing his seniority.
"Emily, really. Every couple has their spats. But taking it to the office? You're damaging Michael's career," chimed in an aunt, who adopted a tone of grave disappointment.
"A wife needs to be understanding. Men, after all, often put on an act when they're in social situations."
"Exactly! As the wife of the CEO, you must consider the bigger picture."
Their "advice" rained down, a web of judgment and expectation woven from threads of tradition and self-interest.
Each one played their part: the righteous elder, the concerned aunt, the voice of reason.
Their unified message was deafeningly clear: I was the woman. I was the wife. My duty was to endure. Swallow my pride, my pain, for the sake of my husband's reputation and this family's fortune.
I watched the parade of hypocritical faces, a cold, detached amusement cutting through the absurdity.
This was the family I'd once struggled to belong to.
They were a collection of polished parasites, clinging to Michael, their host tree, sucking their sustenance from his success.
Seeing the stage sufficiently set, Linda cleared her throat, her posture shifting into that of the matriarch passing sentence. "Emily, I know you're upset. But you can't be so selfish. Think beyond yourself."
She paused, her eyes sharpening to points. "Have you forgotten who arranged your parents' current positions?
"Who pays the exorbitant tuition for your brother's private school year after year?
"If you keep stirring up trouble and ruin Michael, your own family won't benefit either."
There it was. The naked coercion.
Using the people I loved most as leverage to force my compliance.
Their favorite tactic. It was the source of Michael's unshakable confidence, the reason he believed I could never break free.
Looking at Linda's smug, victorious expression, I laughed.
It was a quiet sound, but in the tomb-silent room, it echoed strangely.
Everyone stared, baffled.
"What's so funny?" Michael growled, a warning flashing in his eyes.
I said, sweeping my gaze across the assembled jury, "I'm laughing because you all overestimate your importance."
My eyes finally locked with Linda's. "Linda, there's no need to worry about my parents. They filed for retirement last week.
"They're planning a world cruise. And my brother? He received a full scholarship. He's studying abroad next semester. I've already secured their futures."
Linda's composure cracked, her face freezing mid-smugness.
Michael's eyes widened in shock.
He hadn't anticipated that I'd been quietly building an escape route for my loved ones right under his nose.
"As for your talk of 'put on an act' and the 'bigger picture'..." I reached into my bag and retrieved my phone.
With a tap, a recording began to play.