Chapter 4 - The 7:30 AM Awakening
The digital clock on my nightstand flashed 7:29 AM when the first explosion occurred.
It wasn't a physical bomb, of course, but it felt remarkably close. My phone began to buzz against the wooden surface with such violent persistence that it practically marched toward the edge of the table.
I rolled over, stretched out my arm, and picked up the device.
Missed Call: Vanessa (14) Missed Call: Dad (6) Missed Call: Mom (3)
Before I could even swipe to unlock the screen, a fresh incoming call flashed across the display.
Vanessa.
I answered it, holding the phone an inch away from my ear to protect my eardrum from the impending sonic boom.
“NORA!” Vanessa’s voice wasn't just screaming; it was screeching at a frequency that could shatter crystal chandeliers. “WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU PSYCHO?”
“Good morning, Vanessa,” I said smoothly, sliding out from under the duvet and walking barefoot toward the kitchen to start the kettle. “You sound stressed. Did you sleep poorly?”
“I didn't sleep at all!” she wailed, sobbing hysterically now, the sound of crashing objects in the background suggesting she was tearing through her immaculate, Instagram-worthy kitchen. “At six o'clock this morning, I got an email from the Grand Willow Ballroom! They canceled the reservation! They cancelled everything! The venue, the caterer, the security, the cake—they said the master leaseholder revoked our contract due to a corporate default!”
“Oh,” I murmured, pouring filtered water into the electric kettle. “That’s unfortunate. I suppose luxury venues have strict rules about solvency.”
“SOLVENCY? WE PAID THE DEPOSIT!” she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unadulterated panic. “And now they won't even answer our phone calls! They told my husband that the entire date has been locked out by corporate audit! Emma is upstairs in her room having a full panic attack because her sweet sixteen is in six days and she has no venue, no dress pickup, and no cake!”
“Well,” I replied, flicking the switch on the kettle. “It’s a good thing you have a job now, right? With your salary, you should be able to rebook a community center by lunchtime.”
“YOU BITCH!” Vanessa shrieked. “This was you! This has to be you! Dad said you’re a senior auditor, he said you have powerful corporate clients! You ruined my daughter’s life! You destroyed our family!”
“Actually, Vanessa, Dad is the one who declared I was no longer family yesterday afternoon,” I reminded her calmly. “Remember? ‘Pay up, or you’re no longer family.’ I’m simply honoring my father’s wishes.”
Before she could invent a new curse word, I hung up the phone and blocked her number.
I blocked Dad’s number right after.
And Mom’s.
And every other flying monkey in the extended family who would inevitably be drafted into the morning hysteria brigade.
The kettle clicked off. The kitchen was silent, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator. I poured my coffee, walked over to the window, and watched the morning commuters rush past below. The sun was breaking through the autumn clouds, casting a sharp, golden light across the city.
May you like
My phone vibrated once more on the counter. A silent text message from Marcus: “Grand Willow contract terminated, deposits refunded to escrow, account frozen. Total collateral damage: absolute.”
I smiled, took a sip of my coffee, and whispered to the empty room: “Let them figure out how to pay for their own lives.”
