Chapter 3 - The Phone Call and the Truth
Eric stared down at the glowing screen for three long seconds. In the past, he would have answered on the first ring, his tone cautious, eager to appease whatever demand she had. Now, he simply leaned over, tapped the speakerphone button, and let the call connect.
"Eric?!" Diane’s voice shrieked through the small speaker, sharp and shrill enough to cut through glass. "What in the world is going on with your banking accounts?! I just tried to process my online order for the new patio furniture set, and my credit card was declined! Then I checked my direct deposit app, and the monthly transfer isn't there!"
Eric leaned back in his leather chair, resting his hands flat on the desk. "I stopped paying your bills, Mother."
There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end of the line—a silence so dense you could almost hear the gears turning in Diane's head as she tried to process words she had literally never heard her son utter in his entire life.
"You... you what?" Diane stammered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, dark pitch. "Eric, don't you dare play mind games with me. It is Christmas Eve. Restore those payment authorizations immediately."
"No," Eric said flatly.
"Are you insane?!" Diane exploded, her polite, high-society facade completely shattering into raw rage. "I am your mother! I raised you! I gave up everything for you! You owe me respect, and you certainly owe me support! Is this about that ridiculous little outburst from your ungrateful children earlier?!"
"My daughter sat on that floor and cried because you tore up her spelling bee certificate, Mom," Eric said, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed rage. "She worked for weeks to win that award. She was proud. She wanted to share it with you."
"And she needed a lesson!" Diane shouted back without an ounce of hesitation or remorse. "She walks around acting like she’s better than everyone else! She came into my house waving that piece of paper in front of Bella's face! Bella didn't win a spelling bee this year! Did you even think about how your niece felt seeing Ella show off like that?!"
I leaned toward the phone, my fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. "Ella didn't even mention Bella, Diane! She walked straight to you!"
"Oh, shut up, Sarah!" Diane spat down the line. "You've raised those girls to be arrogant little show-offs! Someone has to keep them in check! Someone has to teach them humility!"
Eric stood up from his chair, leaning over the phone, his face inches from the microphone.
"You hurt my eight-year-old daughter because you were jealous on behalf of someone else?" Eric asked, his voice dead and terrifyingly calm. "You deliberately destroyed her joy because you couldn't stand seeing her shine?"
"She needs to stay humble!" Diane snapped. "Family stays equal, Eric! That's how this family works! Nobody gets to act like they're special!"
"No," Eric corrected her, his voice cutting through her tirade like a razor blade. "That's how you keep people under your thumb. You tear down anyone who achieves anything so they never realize they don't need you. But I am an adult now, Mom. And you don't get to hurt my child to protect someone else's fragile ego."
"Eric, if you don't turn those payment methods back on in five minutes, I will—"
"Goodbye, Diane."
Eric hit the red disconnect button on the screen, cutting off his mother's scream mid-sentence.
He leaned against the desk, taking a deep, shuddering breath. I reached over and wrapped my arm around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder. He pulled me close, shaking slightly from the adrenaline crashing through his system.
Less than sixty seconds later, the phone on the desk lit up again.
This time, the screen read: MELISSA.
Eric looked at me, a bitter, cold smile touching his lips. "She called the backup."
He swiped the screen and hit speakerphone once more. "Hello, Melissa."
"Eric! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Melissa yelled, not even wasting time with a greeting. "Mom just called me crying hysterically! She said you canceled her credit cards and cut off her allowance! Do you have any idea what you're doing to her?!"
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Eric said smoothly. "I'm stopping the gravy train."
"You can't do this!" Melissa shrieked. "Mom is sixty-eight years old! She relies on that money! And what about my monthly assistance transfer?! My rent is due next week! I count on that eight hundred dollars!"
"Then I suggest you get a second job, or ask Mom to pay you out of her savings," Eric replied coldly. "Because my bank account is officially closed to both of you."
"This is completely insane!" Melissa screamed. "Over a stupid piece of paper?! It was just a spelling bee certificate, Eric! Ella can literally print another one out at school on Monday! You are ruining our entire family over a child's piece of trash!"
I couldn't stay quiet any longer. Step by step, I leaned down toward the microphone.
"The certificate was never the problem, Melissa," I said, my voice dripping with pure venom. "Ella was punished simply for shining. You sat on that couch tonight and smiled while your mother tore down an eight-year-old girl to make your daughter feel better. You are a weak, cruel coward, and neither you nor your mother will ever set foot in my house again."
"Sarah, stay out of this—" Melissa started.
Eric didn't give her the chance. "Do not call my phone again, Melissa. If you want financial help, find it somewhere else."
He hung up, locked the phone screen, and tossed it onto the desk.
We stood together in the quiet room for a moment, listening to the silence. But down the hall, the quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps.
Hannah and Ella were standing in the office doorway. Ella was holding her spelling bee certificate. It was covered in crisscrossing strips of clear tape, crinkled and imperfect, but completely whole once more.
Ella looked up at her father with wide, questioning eyes. "Is Grandma mad at us?"
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Eric walked across the room, dropped to his knees in front of both of our daughters, and pulled them both into a tight, fierce hug.
"No, sweetheart," Eric whispered into Ella's hair, his tears finally falling freely. "Grandma is mad because we aren't going to let her hurt you ever again."
