Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
Two weeks after the gala, the campus of Hartwell State was buzzing with the electric, nervous energy of impending commencement. Tents were being erected on the main quad, rows of white folding chairs were lined up across the lawn, and graduating seniors were rushing from department offices to pick up their caps and gowns.
I spent my mornings continuing my duties at Whitmore Hall. Curtis, my supervisor, had offered to let me take the final week off before graduation, but I shook my head.
“Consistency is the job, Curtis,” I had told him while organizing the supply closet. “I started this journey in these hallways, and I’ll finish sweeping them right up until commencement morning.”
On Friday afternoon, as I was walking across the quad carrying a clipboard of maintenance logs, a familiar figure stepped out from behind the stone pillars of the administration building.
It was Todd—Megan’s husband.
He looked distinctly out of place standing near the student union, wearing his usual golf polo and khakis, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he spotted me approaching.
I stopped a few feet away, crossing my arms over my dark blue uniform shirt.
“Todd,” I said neutrally. “Did you lose your golf club?”
Todd flushed, clearing his throat and adjusting his collar. “Chloe. Look... I know you’re busy, but your mother has been beside herself. She hasn't slept in days, and Richard—well, Richard is a mess. They want to talk to you. Just five minutes. Outside your apartment.”
“My apartment is private property, Todd, and my schedule doesn't accommodate family mediation sessions managed by people who couldn't be bothered to answer an emergency call from a hospital bed,” I replied, my voice calm and completely unyielding.
Todd swallowed hard, looking down at his loafers before glancing around the quad to make sure none of his university acquaintances were watching him converse with a custodial worker.
“Look, Chloe, I’m just the messenger,” Todd muttered defensively. “Your parents realize they messed up with the letter. But cutting them off completely? Freezing their accounts? That’s extreme. Your dad is talking about filing a lawsuit against the university and Julian Vance for undue influence.”
“Tell Richard to go ahead and try,” I said, stepping past him toward the library steps. “Julian Vance loves nothing more than a frivolous probate challenge. It keeps his junior associates sharp.”
“Chloe, wait!” Todd called out, taking a half-step after me. “Megan hasn't spoken to them since last week either. The whole family is falling apart. Can’t you just... I don't know, sit down with them and work something out? Be the bigger person.”
I stopped on the stone steps, turned around, and looked down at my brother-in-law with a gaze so cold and piercing that he instinctively took a step back.
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“For thirty-one years, Todd, I was the smaller person in that family,” I said quietly. “I played my assigned role, I passed the rolls, I smiled while my accomplishments were erased, and I accepted my place at the edge of the table. But arithmetic doesn't care about family roles. The numbers balance out in the end. My accounts are closed, my estate is protected, and my commencement speech is already written.”
Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked up the steps into the library, leaving Todd standing alone on the quad under the afternoon sun.
