Chapter 5 - The Flying Monkeys
By Monday morning, forty-eight hours after Christmas, the nuclear fallout of my departure had spread far beyond the Miller household.
I sat at my glass desk on the thirty-second floor of my financial auditing firm, sipping a hot latte while reviewing a corporate ledger. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of my office, the city below was bustling with post-holiday activity.
My desk phone buzzed. It was my executive assistant, Marcus.
“Emily, you have a woman on line two claiming to be your mother-in-law,” Marcus said, his voice laced with professional hesitation. “She sounds extremely agitated. She’s demanding to speak with the human resources director to file a complaint about your 'unethical behavior.'”
I let out a soft, dry chuckle. Linda truly had no limit to her arrogance. She actually believed she could call my workplace and destroy my career because I had stopped funding her mortgage.
“Do not transfer her to HR, Marcus,” I instructed calmly. “Transfer her directly to Sarah Vance’s legal line. And if she shows up in the building lobby, have security escort her off the property immediately.”
“Understood, boss.”
Not five minutes later, my personal phone—which I had kept unblocked for non-family contacts—started buzzing with a call from an unknown local number.
I picked it up, putting it on speakerphone while keeping my eyes on my computer screen. “Emily speaking.”
“Emily? Thank God I reached you!” a frantic, familiar voice gasped through the speaker. It was Brenda, Daniel’s aunt—the same aunt who had sat quietly in the corner on Christmas Day, clutching a new designer bag while Linda mocked me.
“Hello, Brenda,” I said neutrally.
“Emily, honey, you need to fix this right now!” Brenda pleaded, her voice high and hyperventilating. “Linda is in absolute hysterics! Daniel is staying on his brother’s couch because he can’t get into your apartment, and the bank sent a formal collection notice to Linda’s house this morning! They’re threatening to freeze their accounts!”
“Brenda,” I interrupted smoothly. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because you’re his wife!” Brenda insisted, her tone shifting from pleading to indignant. “Family doesn't do this to each other over a silly holiday disagreement! You have millions of dollars, Emily! Fifty-nine thousand dollars is pocket change to you! Why are you destroying Daniel’s family over a pride issue? Just pay the bank and let him come home!”
I set my pen down on the desk, the soft click echoing in the quiet office.
“Brenda, let me ask you a question,” I said, my voice dropping an octave into a cold, lethal register. “Where were you on Christmas morning when Linda told the entire room that there was nothing for me?”
Brenda hesitated, catching her breath. “I... well, I was just a guest—”
“You laughed,” I reminded her flatly. “You sat on the loveseat, held the leather purse I bought you for your birthday last year, and laughed right along with Linda. You didn't say a single word when she publicly humiliated me. None of you did.”
“That was just family banter!” Brenda stammered, flustered. “You know how Linda is!”
“I do know how Linda is,” I replied. “And now Linda is going to find out how the legal system works. You want her mortgage paid, Brenda? You write the check. You want Daniel to have a place to stay? You put him on your couch. But do not ever call my phone again to demand that I finance the people who abused me.”
“You’re an ungrateful, arrogant little bitch!” Brenda shrieked, dropping her polite facade completely. “You think you’re better than us because of your family’s money!”
“No, Brenda,” I said softly right before hanging up. “I think I’m better than you because I don't leech off people I hate.”
May you like
I disconnected the call, added the unknown number to my block list, and picked up my pen.
They were desperate now. The enablers, the bystanders, and the leeches were all realizing the same terrifying truth at the exact same time: the bank of 'rich Emily' was closed forever, and the bill for their cruelty had finally come due.
