Chapter 3 - WASHING AWAY THE FOOLY
I didn't immediately go upstairs to change. Instead, I walked over to the bottom stair, sat down beside my grown son, and pulled him into a tight embrace, ignoring the fact that my wet clothes were soaking into his expensive suit jacket.
Julian buried his face in my shoulder, just as he had done sixteen years ago when the doctors told us his father’s heart had finally given out.
"I'm so sorry, Mom," he sobbed, his voice muffled against my wet blouse. "I'm so sorry. I was so blind. She was... she was horrific to you."
"Shh," I murmured, rubbing his back softly. "You weren't blind, Julian. You were in love. Or rather, you were in love with the person she pretended to be. There is no shame in having a good heart, my son. The shame belongs entirely to her."
He pulled back, looking at my face, his eyes red and filled with deep remorse. "How long did you know? How long was she acting like this when I wasn't around?"
"Elena came to me a week ago," I explained quietly. "She told me about Luis. She told me about the way Chloe spoke to the catering staff, the dry cleaners, the decorators. I tried to tell you, Julian, but you kept making excuses for her. You wanted so badly for her to be the right one."
Julian wiped his eyes, staring at the puddle of gray water near the front door. "I thought... I thought I was fixing her. She told me she had a tough childhood, that her family never valued her, that she felt insecure around our wealth. I thought if I gave her security, if I showed her unconditional love, she would feel safe. But she wasn't insecure, Mom. She was just cruel."
"Security doesn't cure a lack of character," I said softly. "It just gives a cruel person power."
I stood up, wringing out the hem of my secondhand uniform sleeve onto the floor. "Now, go upstairs and wash your face. I am going to take a shower, get dressed in my own clothes, and then we are going to sit down in the study and clean up this mess."
Twenty minutes later, I emerged from my bathroom feeling like Eleanor Vance again. My silver hair was washed and dried, my skin smelled of lavender soap, and I was wearing a comfortable cashmere sweater and tailored trousers.
When I walked down to the study, Julian was already there. He had poured two cups of tea and was staring out the window at the gardens. Standing near the desk was Elena, our house manager, her hands folded neatly, looking visibly shaken.
"Elena," I said, walking over and placing a warm hand on her arm. "Thank you. For everything."
Elena’s eyes welled with tears. "Mrs. Vance, I was so terrified when I saw her carrying that bucket into the foyer. I wanted to step in, but I knew what you were trying to do. I am so sorry you had to go through that in your own home."
"Don't be sorry," I said, sitting behind my desk. "It was necessary. Did you get the grounds staff back?"
"Yes, ma'am. Luis and the rest of the team are returning from their break. And Mrs. Vance... Luis heard what happened. He was near the garden gate when she drove off."
I turned to Julian. "Julian, the first thing we are going to do is apologize to our staff. Personally. You and I together."
Julian nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Right now."
"Not yet," I said, tapping the mahogany desk. "First, we need to assess the damage. Chloe mentioned the wedding contracts before she left. What exactly has been signed, and whose name is on them?"
Julian walked over to the desk, sitting in the leather chair across from me. He looked pale, but the hesitation in his eyes was entirely gone.
"Most of the vendor contracts are under my name or the Vance Family Trust," Julian said. "The venue, the catering, the orchestra, the florist. But Chloe insisted on managing her bridal party's expenses and the dress designer through her personal account, which I opened for her last month."
"An account linked to the Vance Trust?" I asked sharply.
Julian winced. "Yes. It has a fifty-thousand-dollar credit line attached to it."
I leaned back, my mind calculating the moves like a chess grandmaster. "Check the account balance right now, Julian."
Julian pulled out his phone, logged into the private banking app, and typed in his security credentials. As he scanned the screen, his jaw tightened, and a cold look settled over his features.
"She just tried to transfer forty-five thousand dollars to a private offshore account," Julian said, his voice flat. "It happened three minutes ago while you were in the shower."
Elena gasped. "Forty-five thousand dollars?!"
I didn't panic. I simply picked up my desk phone, dialed the direct line to our family's chief financial officer, and placed it on speaker.
"Arthur," I said when he answered. "It's Eleanor. Freeze the Vance Trust credit line attached to Chloe Bennett immediately. Flag the forty-five thousand dollar transfer attempt as fraudulent."
"Consider it done, Eleanor," Arthur replied instantly. "Anything else?"
"Yes. Issue a formal cancellation notice to every wedding vendor associated with the Bennett-Vance event. We will pay any cancellation fees out of pocket, but under no circumstances is Chloe Bennett authorized to make changes, claim refunds, or speak on behalf of the Vance family."
"I'm on it," Arthur said. "Are you alright, Eleanor? You sound... determined."
"I am perfectly fine, Arthur," I said, looking at my son. "We are simply sweeping out the garbage."
After hanging up, Julian looked at me, a mixture of awe and guilt on his face. "She really didn't care about me at all, did she? The moment she realized the wedding was off, her first instinct was to steal as much money as she could before I blocked her."
"A parasite doesn't care about the host, Julian," I said gently. "It only cares about what it can extract. You saved yourself from a lifetime of misery today. Remember that."
Just then, my personal cell phone buzzed on the desk. The screen displayed an unknown number.
I hit speakerphone.
"Eleanor Vance," I answered.
"You think you're clever, don't you, you old bitch?!" Chloe's voice screamed through the speaker, distorted by rage and the sound of her car engine. "You locked my card! You cancelled the caterers!"
Julian leaned forward toward the phone, his voice icy and hard. "Chloe. Do not call my mother again."
"Julian?!" Chloe shrieked. "You're still letting her control you?! She dressed up like a maid to destroy our relationship! She ruined our wedding! If you don't unfreeze that account right now and apologize to me, I am going to the press! I will tell every news outlet in this city that the great Vance family abuses their staff and treats their future daughter-in-law like trash!"
I smiled softly, leaning down toward the microphone.
May you like
"Go right ahead, Chloe," I said calmly. "Because I have four hours of crystal-clear audio recording of your voice, along with security camera footage from the foyer showing you dumping a bucket of dirty water over an elderly woman's head. I wonder which story the press will prefer?"
The line went dead.
